Secrets of a Monkee
by saiken2009
Summary: Micky meets his best friends during his darkest hour. Years later, his past comes back to haunt him. Can his friends help pull him back again?
1. The Bottom

Secrets of a Monkee

Summary: Micky meets his best friends during his darkest hour. Years later, his past comes back to haunt him. Can his friends help pull him back again?

Note: This is set in modern day, but the Monkees are still in their 20s. I just moved them forward in time because I cannot write 60's lingo or technology. With the exception of maybe cell phones, you may not notice though cause I don't use a lot of technology in here. This is also dark. As the summary says, the story starts with Micky's darkest hour. I am testing the waters here to see if anyone would be interested in reading this because I don't see any other real dark fics in this category. Please review to let me know if you want more. It does get lighter in the next chapter which I will also post.

Special thanks to my friends Miki and Emilio for input and proofreading.

Chapter 1: The bottom

Micky stood on the corner, not sure what to do next. He shoved the small brown paper bag with its contents in his pocket, so no one would see and question it. He checked his watch and realized he had to start his shift in 5 minutes. Luckily, the club he worked at was only up the street. He was 18 years old and had been on his own since graduating high school earlier that year. He had met the club's owner a year prior and had asked him for a job. The owner, Robert, had reluctantly agreed after Micky had impressed him with his ability to bus a table quickly and efficiently. It helped he seemed to also have endless amounts of energy, at least when he first got the job. He had moved here after high school, and also needed a place to stay, so Robert let him stay in the basement of the club in order to have Micky always at his beck-and-call and to have an excuse to reduce Micky's pay. He hated it, but it gave him a home and funds to buy food.

So there he was. Standing on the corner, not wanting to start his shift, but resigned to the fact he had to. He began to walk towards the club when he noticed a blonde man standing in front of it holding a guitar case and some papers. Two teenagers ran past him, either not paying attention to the man, or not caring he was there. When they collided into him, the man was bowled over, landing on his guitar case and sending his papers flying. The boys continued on and Micky dodged them expertly, used to these kinds of antics from the locals. It was then he noticed the man had gotten up and had started into the middle of the road, chasing after the papers. Micky knew that in addition to the children racing through the streets without paying attention, the cars also raced around the corners without paying attention. Sure enough, he heard the screeching of the tires approaching the blonde, who obviously hadn't heard the noise and raced to pick up the papers. Micky instinctively acted, diving off the curb towards the man, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him back away from the car as it sped by without even slowing down. The two landed on the curb on their backsides with a heavy thud and pain shot through Micky's body.

"Whoa…." The man next to him breathed. "That…that car came outta nowhere!" The blonde now turned to face him directly. "You….you saved my life!"

"Yeah," Micky responded, getting up and rubbing his now sore butt. "This street is pretty brutal. Running out blindly like that is not a good idea anywhere, especially here." Micky stretched out his hand to help the man up who was still staring at him with a mixture of shock and admiration. Once the man was standing, he wrapped his arms around Micky with such force that Micky had to put one foot behind him to keep from falling over again.

"Thank you!" the man shouted.

"Ok, buddy. You're welcome. Just be more careful next time. I don't know what those papers are, but I'm sure they aren't worth dying for."

"Oh, it's my song!" The blonde man now seemed very excited as he showed Micky the fully recovered papers. Micky saw it was indeed a hand written music score. "I'm a musician and this song took me so long to perfect and this is my only copy of it. Losing it would be devastating."

"I'm sure, but still not worth your life."

"No, I guess not. Thank you again. Oh, my bass!" The man suddenly bent over to check on the case on the ground. After opening it and checking to see that the only damage was a dent in the case, relief once again washed over his face. "Oh thank goodness. It took me a year to save up for that." Micky smiled, glad the instrument had survived. It really was a nice bass and would have been a shame if it had been damaged.

"You're lucky. Kids do this kind of stuff all the time over here. You should try being a little more careful if you plan on sticking around any longer. Don't trust anyone around here to pay attention to you. No one gives a flying…."

"Dolenz!" shouted a voice cutting him off. Micky and the man both jumped at the sudden noise. Micky closed his eyes, awaiting the verbal onslaught he knew was about to come; he was supposed to be at work right now. "Dolenz, what are you doing out here?! I don't pay you to talk up the tourists! I pay you to work! Get in there and get my club ready for Billy's party!" Micky turned to face his boss, ready to grovel and apologize. Billy was Roberts's son who was having his sweet sixteen party that night. Micky opened his mouth to apologize, but the blonde man spoke up first.

"I'm so sorry, sir. I kept him from working. He saved my life, you see. I was careless and ran out into the street, where a car almost hit me…" but he was cut off, too.

"I don't care, young man. This man is paid to do a job."

"Yes, sir," Micky said before the blonde could say anything else. From the look on his face, he was taken aback at Robert's abrasiveness. "I'll start right now." Without another word, Robert walked into the club, with Micky right behind him. It wasn't until he was inside the club that Micky realized the blonde had followed him. Robert walked into his office, not noticing this.

"I hope you don't mind," the blonde said. "I am supposed to meet a couple people here in about 15 minutes. My friend set me up with them. They need a room-mate and I need a place to live. They said that they were performing on stage tonight and if I wanted to see them, to show up early." Micky just looked at the man. He really liked to ramble. At that moment, the bartender came out of the back room with her arms overloaded with boxes of beer. Micky quickly moved to grab as many of them as he could from her.

"Maria, how many times have I told you if you need help carrying these things, just yell at me!" Micky chided.

"Stop treating me like I'm an old woman!" Maria answered. She wasn't old at 35, but Micky still felt that he ought to help her lift heavy boxes. She was a beautiful, thin woman and he never understood how she could carry nearly 60 pounds on her own. She was also one of the kindest women he had ever met, so helping her was a pure pleasure to him.

"Oh come on, Maria. You're old and you know it." Micky teased, with a half-smile on his face. This was all he seemed to be able to muster lately. He set the boxes down for Maria, who had just noticed the blonde man with the guitar case. "Oh, I hope it's ok, but this guy is here to meet the band. I guess he's their new room-mate or something. I told him it was ok to wait here until the band gets here."

"You know I don't mind, but does Robert know?"

"No. But he'll be busy back there till the start of the show anyway." Micky turned to the man who was smiling now. "You can have a seat if you want."

"If you're sure you won't get in trouble," the man replied.

"Not as long as I get my job done, and you don't make a mess."

"Sure. By the way, I'm Peter Tork."

"I'm Micky Dolenz. This is Maria."

"Nice to meet you both." Peter pulled out a bar stool and sat down. Maria offered Peter a soda, which he gratefully accepted while Micky moved to assemble tables and chairs around the stage. When he had nearly finished setting the places on the tables for each of the invited guests, the doors opened again to reveal to more men. One was rather short with dark hair, the other was much taller with a wool hat loosely sitting on his own dark hair. They looked almost comical standing next to each other due to their vastly different heights. The taller man was carrying a guitar case, while the shorter man carried a small bag. Micky assumed these were the musicians Robert had hired for the party. Micky stood up and walked over to them.

"Gentleman, the stage is set for you already," Micky said. "The party technically begins in 5 minutes, but most of the guests won't arrive for another 10 or 15. Also, that man over there says he is supposed to be meeting you here."

"Thanks!" the short one said. Micky was surprised to hear an English accent, but brushed it off. He turned to go back to work, since he had 5 minutes to set up the decorations. Mustering the little amount of energy he had in him, he rushed around to finish. He heard the conversation between the three men while he worked.

"Hi," said the taller man, with a slight country accent; yet another stark contrast to his friend. "I'm Mike, and this is Davy. You must be Peter."

"Yeah," Peter responded. "Thanks for this. I don't really like sleeping on the street out here."

"No problem," Mike smiled. "My friend said you were a great guy and an excellent musician. We don't get many gigs as a two man group. Hopefully we'll get more now with a bass."

"Yeah," said Davy. "Now if only we could find a drummer, we'd sound perfect."

"I still think you should do the drums, Davy," Mike said. "You aren't that bad at it. With more practice, you could be really good."

"I'm too short," Davy replied. "No one will be able to see me." Peter and Mike both laughed at this. Micky stifled a short giggle, not wanting them to think he was eavesdropping. Maria, however, made herself well known.

"Oh, you need a drummer?!" She began. Micky knew where this was going, and as he had just put up the last balloon, he jumped down and ran over to her, quickly cutting her off.

"Maria! Can I get a Pepsi, please?" He shot her a look letting her know not to go any further. Maria rolled her eyes at him and grabbed a glass she had set aside specifically for him. She saved the nicer glasses for the customers.

"Micky," she whispered as she handed him the soda. "I really think you should talk to them. I've heard you play, you're amazing!"

"Maria, I've told you. I don't play anymore. I gave that stupid dream up months ago. I'm done with that. Stop trying to push it."

"But you were truly happy when you played, and the songs you wrote were marvelous. I haven't seen a real smile from you since you stopped playing."

"No. Now drop it." Micky walked away before she could say anything. His fist gripped the glass in his hand so tightly that were it one of the nice glass ones, he would have shattered it. This time he wasn't paying attention so he didn't see Billy walk in with his two best friends. When he finally realized it, Billy was standing right in front of him.

"Not bad, loser," Billy said, looking around at the decorations. Micky's grip got even tighter on his glass. "I suppose it'll do." Billy's friends laughed.

"Glad you like it," Micky said sarcastically. Billy turned around to inspect the stage, and took a step back. He knocked into Micky forcefully, and the soda spilled all over Micky's shirt. Billy and his friends laughed, and Micky felt the urge to punch Billy, knowing it was done on purpose.

"Oops, my bad!" Billy lied. Maria was about to say something from behind the bar when Robert walked out of his office.

"Billy!" Robert said, excited to see his son. "What do you think?"

"I like it, Dad," Billy lied again.

"Excellent! Dolenz, what is all over your shirt?" Micky was about to answer, when Robert waved him quiet. "Whatever, Dolenz, go downstairs and get changed. My waiter called out and I need you to fill in."

"Sir, I…" Micky began to argue, but was cut off again.

"And I expect you to treat all the guests tonight with respect." Robert now turned to the three men sitting by the bar. "Ah, boys. I'd like you to set up on stage now and start playing when the guests arrive. Who's this man?" He addressed Peter, not seeming to remember him from outside.

"Oh, this is Peter," Mike said, not knowing about the earlier incident. "He's our new room-mate. He's just going to watch tonight if that's ok."

"Sure, but he pays for all drinks." Robert turned back to Micky who was still standing in the same place. He was tired and wanted to be alone for the rest of the evening. "Dolenz, I mean it. Downstairs. Change. Now." He began to walk out and Micky started towards the stairs to the basement. "Oh, and Dolenz? I counted all the bottles of beer. If any of them turn up missing, you'll be out on the street by morning." Micky sighed and reluctantly continued to his room to get ready for the long night ahead of him. In the distance he heard Peter mutter something about what a horrible man Robert was.

The rest of the night was fairly uneventful. Micky did his job well, and got a few decent tips from Billy's friends, much to Micky's surprise. Micky didn't care though. Billy continued to verbally assault him throughout the night and abuse him. At one point, Billy made him go back to the kitchen to get a cheeseburger remade 10 times, laughing at Micky each time. Micky felt himself reach his breaking point about halfway through the night when Billy and his friends purposely tripped him while carrying a tray full of drinks and food for the 15th time. He turned on Billy and his friends, but stopped when he caught Robert's eye in the back. He couldn't do anything if he wanted to keep his job and his home. Technically he didn't want to, however. He made his way back to the bar to wipe himself off with a washcloth kept behind the bar and noticed Peter looking at him with pity.

"Why do you tolerate this?" Peter asked incredulously.

"It's my livelihood," Micky answered picking ice cubes out from inside his shirt.

"There are plenty of jobs in the world; surely you can find one that isn't this terrible."

"Not one that comes with a cozy little room down in the basement."

"You live here?"

"Yeah. Makes it easier for Robert to make me work at all hours of the day." Micky put the washcloth down and began to walk back to the floor to continue working.

"Let me help you at least." Peter stood up moving to do just that. Micky turned on him to stop him.

"No."

"It's the least I can do after you saved my life. I owe you!"

"No. You don't owe me. Anyone would have done it. I don't need you getting involved in any of this."

"I don't think just anyone would have jumped in front of a speeding car to save a stranger." Micky sighed. Peter was probably right, but he still couldn't let Peter deal with this stuff.

"Look, I don't wanna do this, but I have to. There's no way Robert is going to let you work. So please, sit back down and listen to your new friends. They sound pretty good." Micky wasn't lying. The two completely opposite men had a wonderful harmonic sound about them. Davy was shaking a tambourine in one hand and held 4 maracas in the other hand while crooning into the microphone. Mike strummed expertly on his guitar while singing background vocals. Without drums or a bass, it sounded very melodic with a percussive backdrop; very simple, which is what Billy liked, but Micky guessed that this was one of the few gigs the duo would land. Micky ran off before Peter could protest any further.

By the end of the night, Micky was exhausted. He walked over to the bar to sit for a moment. He had cleaned as the night went along, so there wasn't really anything left for him to do when the last guest left. He took the tip money out of his pocket and began counting it. He had made a good hundred dollars, which was more than he had made in any other night he waited tables. But he didn't have a chance to get excited about it.

"Dolenz," Robert yelled as he walked over to where Micky was sitting. Micky's head dropped as low as his stomach, fearing what was to come next. Clean-up was already done, there was nothing Robert could possibly make him do. "I counted the number of glasses you broke tonight: 22. Each glass cost me five bucks, so you owe me 110 bucks."

"I didn't break them, you're son…." Micky started, knowing it wouldn't matter and that the money in his hand would soon belong to Robert.

"I saw everything. Don't try and argue with me." Micky sighed, not caring enough about anything to argue anymore. He felt numb. And he suddenly remembered the little brown paper bag still stuffed into his pocket.

"I only made $100 tonight." Micky said handing over his entire tip money.

"Then I'll take the other 10 out of your pay." Robert took the money and left. Micky pushed himself up from the bar and made his way to his room, finally resigned to what he was about to do. He couldn't take any more. He was done fighting it. He barely registered the faces of Peter, Mike and Davy who had all seen the entire exchange with a kind of stupefied horror. He barely heard Peter muttering with his new friends Mike and Davy.

"Unbelievable!" Peter muttered.

"What a horrible man," Mike agreed. "We even saw from up here that stupid kid was tripping him on purpose the whole night."

"Why does he put up with that?" Davy asked. "If it were me, I'd have given him a piece of my mind AND foot!"

Micky slammed his door closed as he heard Peter tell the other two that Micky had no choice because he lived there too. He walked over to his bed and collapsed on it momentarily. He took the bag out of his pocket and held it in his hands for a moment before sitting back up to face his dresser. On top of it were his most prized possessions: a pair of drumsticks given to him by his mother, a guitar pick given to him by his father, and a framed picture of a beautiful woman. He stood up and crossed over to the dresser. He placed one hand on the drumsticks remembering the moment he had opened them. He was 9 and it was the best present he had ever been given. His parents couldn't afford the drums at that point, so he had taken to banging the drum sticks on any flat surface he could find, which drove his family insane until he had finally saved up enough allowance money to buy a cheap set of drums.

He picked up the guitar pick and held it between his fingers. It was a very simple guitar pick and it looked very unremarkable, but Micky loved it nonetheless. His father had given it to him a few years prior. His father had met George Harrison and had spoken to him about Micky's dream to become a musician. His father had apparently boasted about his talents on the drums and mentioned that Micky had begun learning to play the guitar as well. Harrison had given his father the guitar pick to give to Micky as a way of encouraging him to keep chasing his dreams. But Micky felt no drive anymore. The passion he once held for the music was gone. He briefly glanced over at a bookshelf in the corner where 5 binders sat neatly gathering dust. Each binder he knew was filled with songs. Some of them were bad and made no sense, but he couldn't bring himself to throw them away. The feeling he had in his heart when he played or wrote was gone, though. He looked back at the dresser and set the guitar pick down.

The third item was a picture. Framed in deep rosewood, a beautiful smiling face stared back at him. Mocking him. He loved the woman in the picture, but she would never love him back. Not anymore. She refused to even speak to him anymore. She was the reason he had moved out here in the first place. She had gotten a job here and was taking classes at the local community college. He was so in love with her, he had followed her. But she had broken his heart only months later and he didn't have the nerve to return to his family, who had told him he was making a mistake in following her out here. Micky suddenly grabbed the picture of the beautiful woman and hurled it across the room. It was her fault that any of this was happening to him. The day she broke up with him was the day his life ended. He had to move out of her apartment, of course, which had forced him to come here. She was his muse. His inspiration in some of the best songs he'd written. He couldn't even think about those songs without his heart feeling like it wanted to jump out of his chest through his throat. He had never stopped loving her. But she would never again love him.

The entire day's events played through his mind, along with all the other abuses he'd suffered in his life. Staring at her face through the broken glass, he took the small bottle out of the bag and walked back over to his bed. On the nightstand was a small glass of old water. He looked at the small bottle in his hand and read the label for the first time. Oxycodone. A narcotic. The label said to take only 1 pill every 8 hours for pain, but Micky wanted a more permanent solution. Resigned, he took the cap off the bottle and poured a large amount of the pills into his hand, shoved them in his mouth and drank the water on the night stand. He then stuffed the bottle back in his pocket, fell back on his bed and waited.

Within a few minutes, he started feeling very tired. He closed his eyes, hoping all his pain would end soon. It felt like forever, but it was probably only half an hour after having taken the pills that he heard a soft knock on his door. Wondering who could possibly be knocking (Robert usually pounded), he got up and immediately regretted it. The room around him spun around and his stomach lurched.

"Who is it?" Micky called out, hoping to just get rid of the visitor quickly so he could lay back down.

"It's Peter," came the reply. Micky rolled his eyes. Hadn't this guy left yet? It certainly didn't take half an hour to pack up a stage after a show. "I um…I wanted to say thank you again and give you something." Give him something? What could the man possibly give him? He hadn't even been carrying a bag of clothes. Just his music and bass guitar. Micky reluctantly crossed to the door and opened it. He must have looked terrible because he saw the man's face immediately turn ghost white. "Are you okay?" Peter said with a great deal of worry. Micky knew opening the door was a huge mistake. He had to get rid of Peter.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Micky said weakly and was sure he sounded very unconvincing. He tried to muster all his strength, but found it very difficult as his stomach gave another lurch. "I must have eaten something that didn't agree with me. Look, you don't need to give me anything. Really. Just go home and forget about all this. I'll be fine." Micky closed the door before Peter could respond, but still somehow knew Peter wasn't going to leave that easily. But it didn't matter. Micky couldn't speak anymore. He turned and threw up. It must have been very loud, because he heard Peter shout his name through the door. Micky couldn't respond, however, as much as he wanted this man to go away. Micky fell to his knees and felt as though a sledgehammer smacked him in the head. He was finding it difficult to breathe, and threw up one more time. Then everything went dark, and Micky passed out.


	2. Saving Grace

Secrets of a Monkee

Summary: Micky meets his best friends during his darkest hour. Years later, his past comes back to haunt him. Can his friends help pull him back again?

Note: This is set in modern day, but the Monkees are still in their 20s. I just moved them forward in time because I cannot write 60's lingo or technology. With the exception of maybe cell phones, you may not notice though cause I don't use a lot of technology in here. This is also dark. As the summary says, the story starts with Micky's darkest hour. I am testing the waters here to see if anyone would be interested in reading this because I don't see any other real dark fics in this category. Please review to let me know if you want more.

Special thanks to my friends Miki and Emilio for input and proofreading.

Chapter 2: Saving Grace

Peter stood at the door, terrified. He had gone down there to give Micky some money that Mike, Davy, and Maria had gathered after witnessing his boss stealing it. It wasn't much, since none of them had a lot of money, but Peter felt very bad for Micky. Now he felt even worse. Micky had tried to tell him he was ok, but Peter knew he was just trying to get rid of him. As soon as Micky closed the door on him, he heard a horrible retching and knew that Micky was throwing up.

"Micky!" Peter called through the door, hoping the boy who risked his life for his was ok. His heart sank when he was answered only by another retching sound. Peter was contemplating what he should do next when he heard a thud. Peter threw the door open, knowing something must have happened to Micky. Sure enough, Micky lay on the ground in a pool of his own vomit. Peter's heart nearly stopped beating. Micky's face was slack and pale, his eyes closed. Peter dropped to his knees next to Micky and rolled him out of the puddle.

"Micky!" he pleaded, hoping Micky would open his eyes and respond. But he didn't. His face stayed slack. His eyes stayed closed. Peter shook him a little, trying to wake him. Nothing. He continued to call his name for what seemed like an eternity. But nothing happened. How could Micky have gotten this sick this fast? He was fine just 45 minutes ago when he had walked down here. Sure he looked depressed and upset, which is why Peter and the others had spent 45 minutes talking over how to cheer him up. Maria had said that nothing would work, and that Micky was very sullen as of late despite all her best efforts to cheer him up.

"Davy! Mike! Maria! Help!" he shouted up the stairs. Within seconds, Mike and Davy clamored down the staircase and both froze when they saw the young man passed out on the floor. "He….I don't know what happened. I knocked and he….he was so pale when he answered the door. And he was so sweaty. Then he closed the door and threw up. I heard a thud and found him like this….Where's Maria?"

"She had to go home," Davy said as he too knelt down next to Peter. Davy felt Micky's forehead. "He's cold." Davy then reached for his wrist. It took Peter a moment to realize he was looking for a pulse. Peter swallowed hard, terrified. "His pulse is good. A little slow, I think, but I'm not a doctor."

"A doctor!" Peter said. "We need to get him to a hospital. Someone should call for help." Mike nodded and ran up the stairs. Peter and Davy waited there for Mike to return with news of an ambulance. But when Mike came down, it was behind Robert.

"Oh jeeze, boy!" Robert yelled when he saw Micky. Robert was possibly the coldest man Peter had ever met. Peter was the type of person to find good in everyone, thinking everyone deserved a chance and that the world would be a lot more peaceful if everyone just loved one another. However, Peter was finding it difficult to find anything to love about this man.

"He needs a doctor," Davy said.

"That's what I told him," Mike said. But Robert wasn't listening. He was searching for something in the room. Peter was appalled at this man's lack of concern. "Please, sir, he's really sick." Mike pleaded. Apparently Robert wasn't going to call for an ambulance. Robert ripped open Micky's small refrigerator sitting on the floor and pulled out one half empty and two full bottles of beer.

"The boy isn't sick," Robert said very angrily. Peter almost argued with him, but Robert crossed the room once more to a large trash can and tipped it over. About half a dozen more empty beer bottle spilled out onto the floor. "He's drunk. He'll be fine by morning after he sleeps it off. And these are my beers, which means he stole them from me. I want him gone."

"Drunk or not, he's out cold!" Davy yelled jumping up.

"Want me to call the police? I will. Underage drinking and thievery. He'll get his hospital stay, but as soon as they check his blood, they'll arrest him. I really don't have a problem with that. In fact, that's just what I'm gonna do. The police can take his shit and deal with him."

"You're just throwing him out?" Mike said. "Just like that? While he's unconscious?"

"Yes, I am!"

"Well, hold on a minute! What if we took him? Packed up all his stuff in our car and let him sleep it off on our couch?" Peter looked at Mike gratefully. He didn't want Micky to end up in jail for a stupid mistake.

"I really don't care what you do! As long as he's out of my hair!"

"Ok. Then we'll take him. Do you at least have some boxes so we can pack his stuff?" Robert grunted something that Peter didn't hear, but assumed it was a "yes" as Mike followed him up the stairs.

"Wow…." Davy breathed. "That is the world's ugliest man." Peter silently agreed, deciding this was the one man in the world he hated.

"You really think he'll be ok if we don't take him to the hospital?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, but we'll keep an eye on him just in case. Robert kind of has a point. If Micky's drunk, they'll charge him with underage drinking." Mike came back downstairs with boxes in his arms. Peter didn't want to leave Micky's side and was thankful that neither Davy nor Mike said anything as they moved to start gathering everything of Micky's and throwing them into various boxes. Mike paused when he reached the dresser.

"Hey, look at this," Mike said. "He's a musician? There are old drumsticks and a guitar pick sitting here."

"I think I know why he's so depressed," Davy said, picking up a shattered picture of a beautiful girl.

"She must be an ex-girlfriend or something."

"Do we pack it?"

"Better. Just in case, but throw all the broken glass away." Once they were done packing, Davy began carrying the boxes up the stairs and out to the car. Mike walked over to Peter and Micky with a large blanket and wrapped it around Micky. The two of them lifted Micky and carried him up the stairs together in silence. Peter held him under his arms and Mike took his feet. On the street, Mike led them over to a bright red Pontiac GTO. Davy had lowered the top down already and Mike and Peter set Micky down in the last row. Peter climbed in next to him, still not able to leave the man who had saved his life just hours earlier. Davy and Mike ran back for the rest of the boxes and packed them in the second row with the other two Davy had already brought down. Mike's guitar lay next to Peters on the floor behind the second row of seats. Peter sat down and gently placed Micky's head in his lap while Mike took a seat behind the wheel and Davy got into the passenger seat.

"Keep an eye on his breathing," Mike said before starting the car. No one said anything else the rest of the way. The drive to Peter's new home seemed longer than it actually was, but that was because he was so worried about Micky. Mike also made a point to take turns and bumps as slowly and gently as he could so as not to jostle Micky. They finally pulled up to a large looking house overlooking the beach. Peter couldn't appreciate it, though. Mike and Davy jumped out and helped Peter carry Micky into the house.

"There are two rooms upstairs that are empty," Mike said. "Davy and I both prefer downstairs. One's yours and Micky can stay in the other tonight." Peter nodded, but wondered how they were going to get him up the spiral staircase without knocking his head on it. At the bottom of the stairs though, Mike grabbed Micky from Peter and began lifting with a strength Peter didn't expect from him. "Just hold his head." Peter did as he was told and followed Mike up the stairs with one hand holding Micky's head against Mike's shoulder. At the top of the stairs, Mike nodded to a second door, which Peter rushed to open. Mike dropped Micky on the bed, clearly unable to bear the weight any longer. Peter was grateful, thinking he'd never have been able to carry him. Davy came in the room and began setting the boxes in a corner.

"We should clean him up," Peter said, noticing Micky was now soaking wet from sweat, even though he was still somewhat cold.

"I'll get some washcloths," Mike said and ducked out of the room for a moment.

"I have some incense sticks in my guitar case," Peter said to Davy. "Would you mind grabbing them for me?"

"Incense?" Davy asked puzzled.

"Yeah, it's supposed to help the healing process and cleanse the soul." Davy merely shook his head, but turned to get the incense anyway. Peter was used to that. Peter was very spiritual, and it confused most people. He didn't care if Davy thought he was wacko. Peter just wanted to help Micky get better. Mike returned with a few clean blankets, several washcloths and a bucket full of water. Davy walked in seconds later with Peter's incense sticks and a few burners.

"How many do you want me to light?" Davy asked. Mike looked puzzled as he set the bucket down next to Micky.

"2 or 3 should be good," Peter responded, taking a washcloth from Mike. Mike shook his head as well as Davy began to light them and place them around the room. Peter unbuttoned Micky's soiled shirt and carefully took it off. Mike and Peter dunked their washcloths in the bucket and wrung them out. Peter started to carefully wipe down Micky's face, when he noticed Micky jerk a little. He froze for a second wondering what was happening. Suddenly Micky threw up again with another little jerk. Mike and Peter both gasped jumped back to avoid being hit.

"Gross," Davy whispered. "I don't think he likes the smell."

"Those are rather strong," Mike said looking at Peter.

"They're supposed to be," Peter said moving back towards Micky to clean him off a little more. "They're very cleansing."

"Yeah…." Davy said. "I'll get a mop." No one said anything as he left the room, looking as if he might throw up himself. Peter wiped all the sweat and sick from Micky's face, and tried to brush the hair out of his face, but it was wet and stuck to his forehead. Mike wiped the sweat from Micky's chest and back. When Micky was fairly cleaned up, Peter grabbed the blankets Mike had brought in and covered Micky up. Davy returned with another bucket full of soapy water and a mop.

"I'll get it," Peter said, taking them from Davy. "You guys go down and relax. I'll stay here with him."

"You sure?" Mike asked.

"Yeah. I owe him. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be alive. The least I can do is nurse his hangover."

"Ok," Mike said. "If you need anything, we'll be downstairs. There's only one bathroom downstairs. There's soda in the fridge and a tv down there."

"Thanks," Peter said. Davy and Mike both turned to leave. "I mean it guys. Not just for taking me in, but for helping Micky, too. You guys don't even know him."

"Well, you do," Mike said. "And you seem to care about him."

"Sure, but you don't really know me yet either."

"True," Davy said, "but we also don't like to turn our backs on people in need. And after the night Micky had, I can't say I blame him for wanting to drink."

"He needs a friend after a night like he had," Mike added. "And I'm more than sure that tonight wasn't any different than any other night he's had for a while." They all smiled at each other, and Peter began to clean the floor while Mike and Davy went off to their own rooms. When the floor was clean, Peter put the bucket in the corner, in case he had to use it again. He kept the bucket with the washcloths closer so he could continue to clean Micky's face, as more sweat had started to appear. Peter sat down in a chair next to Micky and just watched him for a while before he fell asleep.

Peter awoke only a few hours later with a knot in his back from the chair. He looked over and noticed Micky had thrown up again. The sound must have been what woke Peter up. Peter got up and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He rolled Micky back onto his back and took the washcloth to wipe his face down again. He felt like crying, not knowing how else to help Micky. It pained him to see someone this miserable, especially someone like Micky. Sure he barely knew Micky, but he knew all he needed to in order to know that Micky was a good person with a lot of heart. Peter knew very few people in this world would jump out in front of a speeding car to pull a stranger from harm. It told Peter that Micky had a big heart. Watching Micky put up with the abuses he had suffered all night from his boss and his boss's son was heartbreaking. He could tell Micky didn't deserve it.

Peter felt Micky's forehead and was pleased to note it felt warmer. He then checked his pulse, which seemed to also be stronger. Peter smiled. His incense sticks had gone out, so he walked over to a shelf where Davy had put more and proceeded to light a few more. Moments later, Micky threw up yet again. Peter almost did wonder at that point if the smell was making him throw up and immediately felt bad. He walked back over to Micky to clean up again. Once the floor was cleaned, Peter knew he had to throw away the water, so he carefully and quietly took the mop and the bucket downstairs to where Mike had told him the bathroom was. He didn't want to wake Davy or Mike, grateful to them that they had opened their home to a stranger. Peter wanted Micky to be his responsibility from here on out, though.

He was startled, however, to see Mike standing in the kitchen with a glass of water when he exited the bathroom with a clean mop and bucket.

"Mike!" Peter said. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"No, no," Mike assured him. "I was awake. Couldn't sleep and heard you come down. How's he doing?"

"He seems to be doing better."

"That's good. Seems a little odd, though."

"What does?"

"Well, I've been around my share of drunk people. It's a very common thing in Texas. I didn't see him drink at all at the party tonight, and if he had started when he went back to his room, it wouldn't have hit him as fast as it did."

"Unless he's a lightweight."

"Well, sure. But I doubt that since it seems as though he had quite a few old bottles around."

"Do you think something else is wrong with him?" Peter almost didn't want to know. At least if Micky was drunk, he would just have to sleep it off.

"I don't know. I hope that's all it is, but it just seems weird." Mike paused and Peter didn't know what else to say. "It's almost morning. I'm gonna try and get a little sleep. I feel better knowing Micky's improving. You should try and sleep, too."

"I did. I fell asleep in the chair." Mike just looked at him as if he wanted to say something else, but then decided not to.

"Good night, Peter."

"Good night, Mike. And thanks again. For everything." Mike simply smiled and walked off to his room. Peter made his way back up to the room Micky was in. Micky still lay there on the bed as Peter had left him. Peter sat back down in the chair and continued to wait for Micky to wake up. It would be a long wait, though, as Micky wouldn't wake up until later that afternoon.

Micky was falling down a dark hole. He couldn't see anything, but tried to reach out to the edges of the darkness. There was nothing to grab onto, though and he kept plummeting. He thought he heard voices and tried to listen for them. They seemed to be talking about him. Micky kept reaching out, trying to grab something; to stop himself from falling. But he also strained to listen to the voices. If he could figure out where they were coming from, he could try and reach for them. Maybe call out for help.

"Are you sure?" One of the voices was saying. It sounded vaguely familiar.

"Well, he should have woken up by now," said another voice. This one too sounded familiar. "But all the color is back in his face; he's stopped sweating. He appears to be doing fine."

"I think we should give it maybe a few more hours," said a third voice. This one had a British accent that sounded familiar. Micky swore he knew these people, but he didn't know from where. "If Micky doesn't wake up then, we'll call a doctor or something." Wake up? Micky wasn't asleep. He was plummeting. For a long time. He should have hit the bottom by now. He scrambled again to find the edge; something to grab onto. He tried crying out for help, but he made no noise. He was surrounded by complete darkness. Maybe he was sleeping. Micky closed his eyes and willed himself to wake up. That's when he hit the bottom. But instead of feeling hard ground beneath him, he felt soft cushion. His head felt as though it would explode and his stomach hurt. Micky let out a moan and all the voices around him immediately stopped talking. The silence itself was painful.

"Micky?" said the first voice. He recognized it now. It was the blonde haired man from earlier, Peter.

"Don't crowd him in case he throws up again," said the second voice. He recognized this one as the tall southerner, Mike.

"Micky?" Peter asked again. Micky could hear the pleading tone in his voice. Micky wondered how long he had been out and why these men who barely knew him were crowding around him. He wanted to yell at them to leave him alone, but his throat was too dry to make any noise louder than a whisper.

"What happened?" he croaked. He realized as soon as he said it his throat burned. He winced from the pain.

"Micky!" Peter sounded excited, but the noise cut through Micky's brain like a knife.

"Aah!" he cried out in pain, and again his throat burned.

"Sorry, I'm just so glad you're ok! We were worried about you!"

"What?"

"Peter found you passed out in your room," the third voice finally spoke up, but Micky already knew it had to be Davy. "He's been sitting here with you ever since." Micky finally opened his eyes, and immediately regretted it. The light hit him like a sledgehammer to the head. Micky recoiled and pulled the blankets over his head.

"Davy, get the lights!" Mike said. Davy must have turned them off because it suddenly got darker and Micky slowly lowered the sheet. Peter sat on the edge of the bed Micky was laying on and Mike stood behind him. Davy stood by the door, but moved to get closer to Micky too once the lights were off. Micky didn't recognize the room he was in at all. It was a basic room; 4 bare walls, a chair, a bed and a dresser. He also noticed some boxes stacked in the corner and an odd smell permeated the room.

"Where am I?" he croaked.

"Davy and Mike were gracious enough to bring you to their home," Peter answered.

"Our home," Davy said. "You live here now too, Peter."

"Oh yeah."

"Why?" Micky asked, fearing he already knew the answer.

"Well, uh…." Peter trailed off.

"We tried to get you help," Mike said. "Didn't know what was wrong with you. The only person I could find was uh….Robert." Micky groaned knowing what must have happened. "He found the bottles in your room and said he was gonna call the cops and have them evict you."

"We didn't think it was right to evict an unconscious person," Davy added. "Drunk or not, so we offered to let you sleep it off here instead of having you get arrested."

"Crap." Micky said. His plan had failed and now he was homeless. What a miserable failure he was.

"Mike and Davy packed all your stuff up," Peter said, indicating the boxes in the corner.

"Thanks. How long have I been out?"

"About 14 hours or so," Mike answered.

"And you've been here this whole time?" Micky asked Peter.

"Yeah," he replied. "I was worried about you."

"Great. Call us even now." Micky threw the sheet off himself and tried to get up, but failed. His legs wouldn't work.

"Whoa there, shotgun," Mike said, lunging to grab him before he fell on his face. "You aren't going anywhere for a while."

"Yeah," Davy added. "Probably not a good idea to go anywhere with a hangover that bad."

"Hangover?" Micky was puzzled. Then he realized what they must have thought. Sure enough, he still felt the bottle in his pocket, which meant they hadn't found it and didn't know he had taken any of them. The boys must have thought he was really drunk, which is why they didn't bring him to the hospital. "Oh yeah," He said in fake remembrance before someone questioned him. Micky lay back down, knowing they were at least right about him not being able to go anywhere.

"I'll get you a glass of water," Davy said before leaving the room.

"How do you feel?" Peter asked.

"Like hell," Micky responded. He really didn't want to go into it with these men. He felt ashamed. They had opened up their home to him and were taking care of him when they didn't have to. They didn't even know him. He couldn't say he was glad they helped him, but if they hadn't he might have woken up jail if Robert had found him passed out. He wondered why he was even still alive. He had taken half that bottle of pills. He should be dead. He realized he must have thrown up the pills when he threw up at home. Or most of them, since he had still apparently passed out for 14 hours. But if he had passed out, didn't that mean enough had gotten into his system to cause enough damage to kill him?

"What is that smell?" Micky asked, trying not to sound rude, but that smell was making it difficult to think.

"Sorry, it's my incense," Peter replied. "It's supposed to help cleanse the body."

"I think all it did was make him throw up," Davy said returning with the glass of water he promised.

"I threw up here?" Micky asked, suddenly even more ashamed.

"Yeah," Mike answered. "A few times. And I thank you for waiting till after we left the car. Would have been so much worse to clean that outta my car."

"To be fair," Peter said defensively as Micky drank the water Davy had brought, "I think him throwing up cleaned out his system a little. He did get more color in his face every time he did it. So technically the incense worked." It made sense now. Micky had thrown up off and on all night, expelling all the pills. A little bit had gotten into his system making him pass out, but he slept it off. Peter had saved his life by coming down to his basement apartment and by lighting that incense, but he didn't know it. And Micky vowed never to tell him. Or Mike or Davy. He didn't want them knowing the truth after they had been so kind to him.


	3. Banded Together

Secrets of a Monkee

Summary: Micky meets his best friends during his darkest hour. Years later, his past comes back to haunt him. Can his friends help pull him back again?

Author's note: Okay, obviously I don't have any rights to the song "Shades of Gray" and I know Peter didn't write it, but I love this song, and this is after all about the characters of the show, not the real actors/musicians. And as you can tell, my fave Monkee is Micky, with Peter being second. Davy's third and then Mike in case you were wondering. :D

Also, I've already started chapter 4, so it'll go up soon.

Special thanks to Emilio for his musical input.

Chapter 3: Banded Together

The next several hours were filled with stories from Mike, Davy and Peter. Micky mostly sat there, not knowing what to say or do. He figured these guys needed to get to know each other as new room-mates, so he interjected a few questions here and there, but he didn't share any stories of his own. He didn't expect to be here much longer; where he'd go, he had no clue, however. Maybe now it was time to suck up his pride and go home with his parents. Trying not to think about it, Micky asked Mike and Davy how long they had known each other.

"Not very long," Mike replied. "We met about three or four months ago. I owe that to another friend of mine. Told him I was out of work singing on the street with my guitar and thinking of auditioning for a gig at some swanky hotel. My friend said that I wouldn't get it without a cute face; he said he knew of a short English one who had just gotten off the boat and needed a room-mate. I couldn't afford rent by myself since my old room-mates had just moved out, so I figured that whole two-birds-one-stone thing. Gave it a shot and regretted it ever since."

"Hey!" Davy said, playfully smacking Mike on the arm. Peter laughed, and Micky himself had to chuckle a little.

"So the same thing happened with Peter, then?" Micky asked, remembering the conversation from the day before about how a friend of Peter's had hooked him up.

"Yeah, all my friends are into music as much as I am, so we kinda all run in the same circles," Mike answered. "Told him that Davy and I were good, but I wanted a bass for our little band. Noticed that bands got more gigs that way. Plus it just sounds more fleshed out and less raw. Haven't had a chance to hear if Peter's any good though."

"Oh, I'm good," Peter said. "I hope….I've been playing guitar since I was barely able to hold it. Isn't hard to pick up after you know piano."

"You play piano, too?" Davy asked.

"Yeah, and after the guitar I started messing with a bass, and for the last couple years I've been perfecting the banjo." They all stared in silence at him.

"You play all that?" Micky asked, remembering how hard it was to learn the guitar. "You're like a one man band!" Peter turned a bright shade of pink and lowered his head a little.

"I just love music."

"And you write?" Micky asked, remembering the sheet music Peter had nearly died trying to save.

"Well, I haven't written very many songs. That's become sort of a new venture for me."

"Wow..." Mike said. "I've tried writing songs before, and I just can't really seem to do it."

"You'll get there, Mike," Davy said. "Oh! It's getting late! We should get some practicing in if we have any hope of nailing that audition we have next week. We've never practiced with Peter before, so we shouldn't really waste any time."

"Not that this has been a waste of time," Mike said looking at Micky, clearly trying to make sure Micky didn't get offended or feel guilty. The though hadn't even crossed Micky's mind though.

"Of course not," Micky said, assuring Mike he wasn't. Davy and Peter both got up after telling Micky to rest and that they'd see him later.

"Actually, if you're feeling up to it," Mike said standing in the doorway, "you can take a shower downstairs, and we have some soup in the cupboard. We already ate before you woke up." Micky realized for the first time how hungry he was and how gross he felt. He hadn't wanted to take a shower this bad in his entire life.

"Yeah," Micky moved his legs off the bed and tried to stand. He'd regained most of his balance and strength and was able to stand with only a little wobbling. He noticed Mike tense up by the door, ready to run and grab Micky in case he fell. Micky straightened himself all the way and felt a slight dizziness in his head, but shook it off. "Um, what box has my bathroom stuff in it?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. We have plenty of soaps and stuff. I can grab you a towel from the cupboard and I think I have a pair of sweats that might fit you. You can worry about unpacking your things later."

"Unpacking?" Micky wasn't sure what he meant by that. He thought he was just there to "sleep it off", as Mike had put it earlier. Why would he unpack if he was just going to be leaving soon?

"Well, sure. You didn't think we'd just throw you out onto the street with nowhere to go, now did you?" Mike's smile was bright and warming. Micky didn't know what to say and just stood there, dumbstruck. How could complete strangers be so welcoming and nice to him? He didn't deserve it. "Come on, I'll get that towel and those clothes." Mike walked out the door before Micky could even think to protest. Pulling himself together, Micky followed.

He was on the top floor of a large house. There was a spiral staircase leading to a large room that served as a living room, dining room, kitchen, and a stage nestled in an alcove. Davy and Peter were already sitting there, holding their instruments and looking at some sheet music. Behind them was a giant bay window and even in the darkness, Micky could tell it overlooked the beach. No wonder Mike needed room-mates. This place had to be expensive, but it was beautiful.

"Hey, Mike, you coming?" Davy asked.

"Yeah, just gonna show Micky the shower and get him a change of clothes for now," Mike answered. Micky slowly followed Mike down the stairs, but stopped when Mike opened the door to what must have been his room. Moments later he came out with some clothes in his arms. "Bathroom's this way, Micky." Micky silently followed. Mike stopped short in front of another door and opened it. The bathroom was like every other bathroom, but it was bigger than the one he had at the club. Mike seemed to rummage around under the counter for something, but came up short. "Hey, Davy, where are the clean towels?"

"Oh, I just washed them last night before the gig," Davy said, jumping down from the stage, and doing a little bounce on a black couch that reminded Micky of something he would see in a shrinks office. Davy moved quickly and gracefully, for a short guy.

"Hey that was cool!" Peter said with a little laugh when Davy landed like a gymnast.

"Thanks!" Davy answered, moving to grab a bag of laundry by the door. He rifled through it and emerged with a plain black towel before throwing it over to Mike and Micky. Micky tried to catch it, but didn't have his coordination back and missed. Without saying anything, Mike bent over to pick it up and hand it to Micky.

"There's plenty of soap in there, so use as much as you want," Mike said. "Water is a set price every month, so feel free to use as much as you want. When you get done, I can throw some soup on the stove for you. I think we might even have some crackers."

"Thank you," Micky said. He suddenly wished there was a better phrase to express just how thankful he really was. Those two words didn't seem to do how he felt justice. He smiled at Mike for the first time in what felt like ages. A real smile. Mike smiled back and with a simple "you're welcome" went to join the other two in practicing. Micky shut and locked the door behind him and just stood there for a moment. What was happening? He had lived a horrible life over the last several months since she left him, and now here he was being treated with dignity and respect. Something only Maria had done for him these past months. He had ignored all her attempts to make him happy, though, because he knew that only moments later, Robert or Billy would come and make him feel like something stuck on the bottom of their shoes. But he didn't have to deal with them now. He could start a new life. Find a new job and another cheap hovel to live in. And maybe he would stay friends with these people. He wanted to, but wasn't sure if they did.

Micky stripped down, and turned the water on. He stayed in the shower for at least half an hour, taking up Mike's offer to use as much as he wanted. The hot water felt good. It was almost as if it were washing away all the despair he felt over the last several months. With each passing moment, he felt himself start to be happy. His mind played back everything that had happened with the other three men. Their smiles were so genuine and warm. Peter and Davy both had very infectious laughs. Micky loved the way that Peter's whole face would seem to light up when he laughed and his eyes shone when he was happy, which seemed to be all the time now that he knew Micky was ok. He could see the same passion for music he used to have in each of them.

When he had turned the shower off, he heard the music coming from the living area. He stood and listened as they wrapped up the song they were practicing. Peter was singing, and even from the last few words of the song Micky could tell he had a really good voice.

"That was good," Mike said when the song ended. "I really like it, Peter. We should use that one in our audition."

"Yeah, but I'm terrible on the drums," Davy said. "We need a better drummer."

"I thought you sounded good," Peter countered.

"I kept beat well enough, sure, but I messed up in a lot of places!"

"Well, this is our first night playing this song," Mike said, "Did you expect to play it perfectly the first time?"

"Of course not, but you guys barely messed up."

"Well, that's cause I wrote it," Peter said.

"Why don't we talk to Micky? You saw the drumsticks on his dresser, Mike. Maybe he'll play for us."

"No," Mike said. "We can't ask Micky. There weren't exactly any drums in his room for one, and for two, I think that bartender was going to suggest him at the club last night when he ran over to cut her off. Remember? Even if he did play the drums, he obviously doesn't want to any more. And we aren't going to push him on it."

"I know, but we really need this gig. The money will pay our rent for 2 months. The only reason we can pay this month's rent is Peter!"

"I'm well aware of that, Davy, but the answer is still no. Micky is a guest. I don't know how long he's going to be here, or even how long he wants to be here. If he wants to pick up and leave tomorrow morning, I'm not going to stop him."

"You're not?" Peter asked.

"No. I'll try and talk him out of it, cause he obviously has no place to go, but I won't tell anyone what they can and cannot do. Davy, just keep practicing. You'll get it. I think Micky's out of the shower anyway, so no more talk about this. I'm gonna start his dinner." Micky didn't know what to think or say to them. Once again, he was blown away by Mike's generosity toward a perfect stranger.

Micky pulled the clothes on that Mike had given him. Mike was only a little taller than Micky, by about an inch, so the clothes fit very well. The sweat pants were a little long on him, but barely noticeable. The shirt was a little tight fitting because Mike's chest was smaller, but again, it was barely noticeable. Micky brushed his fingers through his hair to try and tame the wild jungle of brown curls, but without hairspray it was impossible, so he gave up. When he smelled the soup, he made his way out to the kitchen. Peter was sitting next to Davy by the drums, trying to help him play a little better and Mike was standing by the stove, stirring something in a pot.

"Hey," Peter said when he saw Micky. "Feel any better?"

"Much, thank you," Micky answered truthfully. He felt like he'd washed all the weight of the world away.

"Have a seat," Mike said, indicating the table in the kitchen. "The soup's almost ready. I think there's a little orange juice left, or I can give you water."

"I can get it," Micky said, crossing over to the kitchen, not wanting Mike to completely cater to him. "Where are the glasses?"

"Up in that cabinet," Mike said, "but I really don't mind."

"That's ok. Thank you, though." Micky grabbed a glass from the cupboard and crossed to the sink to fill it with water. He drank most of it in one gulp, not realizing how thirsty he was.

"Slow down," Davy laughed, "Don't choke!" Micky had to laugh a little too as he filled the glass again. This time he set it down at the table and waited till Mike put the bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of him.

"I guess we didn't have any crackers," Mike said apologetically.

"That's ok," Micky said as he started eating. "Hey, can you guys play that song again? I only caught the tail end of it, and I wanna hear how you sound."

"Sure!" Peter said excitedly. Davy looked a little pale. Micky guessed he still thought his drumming was terrible and didn't want to play in front of anyone. Peter walked over to a small keyboard and sat down to play it. Mike crossed over to the stage and picked up his guitar and started counting out for the others. Peter began the song on the keyboard and soon the others joined in. Davy began singing, and although the song sounded absolutely beautiful and Davy had excellent vocal abilities, he had been right about looking goofy behind the drums. It was a good song about morality and how it seemed easy as a child, but as adults it was much harder. It resonated with Micky, considering what he had just done. This must have been the song that Peter had nearly thrown his life away to save.

All three sang during the chorus, and they had good harmony together, but Micky thought it was missing something. With Mike singing bass, Peter singing baritone, and Davy singing tenor, Micky thought it would sound better as a four part harmony with a high tenor added. Peter began to sing at the end of the chorus and then through the rest of the song. His skills on the piano were very good. Micky saw the passion in his eyes as he played. Mike stood there with his guitar, staring at the sheet music as he played. He really was good on the guitar, as Micky had noted the night before, but now he had time to appreciate it. Mike only made a few mistakes on it, which was incredible seeing as how he had only learned the song half an hour earlier. Davy on the other hand was making more mistakes. He seemed to get frustrated, which made him mess up even more, but he kept playing. When the song ended, Micky clapped for them. He couldn't help it; he really did like the song.

"That was great!" Micky said.

"Really?" Peter beamed.

"What's it called?"

"Shades of Gray. It's the one I showed you yesterday. I have a few more, but they aren't done yet."

"I like it, too," Mike said. "We usually just do covers, but I want to use that for our audition next week."

"I think it sounds good," Micky said. "A little more practice and you'll be perfect!" He was saying that more to try and build Davy's confidence, because Micky could tell he could be really great on the drums with a little more practice.

"I've never been taught the drums," Davy said. "Not formally, anyway. Just kind of picked it up out of necessity more than anything else. You think it sounded ok?"

"Yeah," Micky said. "Like I said, just a little practice, and I think you guys'll land that audition. Especially with a song like that!" Davy smiled, a little confidence added to him. He began playing the drums again, trying to practice and get the song down more.

"So, Micky," Peter said as he walked over to the table and sat down himself. "What do you plan to do now?"

"I don't really know," Micky answered. "I mean, I know I have to find a job and a place to stay and everything, but…"

"You don't have to find a place to stay," Mike interrupted, turning a third chair around to sit backwards in it. "You can stay here as long as you need."

"I couldn't impose."

"It wouldn't be an imposition, really. Once you get a job, you can either save up a little of your checks to move out and help out with food and stuff, or decide to stay and pay a fourth of the rent. But until then, we've got the room up there that's not being used. Why let it go to waste?"

"What about utilities and stuff? I'd be using more electricity?"

"That's included as a flat rate in our rent just like the water," Davy said, now joining them at the table. "Having you stay here wouldn't really cost us any more money in anything other than food."

"Which you can help out with once you get a job," Peter added. Micky smiled again. These guys were trying to convince him to stay instead of go out on the cold streets. Micky thought back to the conversation they didn't know he'd overheard about what a struggle it was for them to pay rent, but he didn't say anything. He just decided that he would stay as long as they wanted him and he would find a job and help out with food and rent.

A week had passed and Micky still hadn't found a job. The few places that were hiring chose someone with more experience than him. He found it frustrating. The others had tried to keep him encouraged, but Micky was really struggling to stay happy when he kept feeling like he was letting his new friends down.

Meanwhile, Davy, Mike and Peter practiced day and night for their audition, but Davy really wasn't getting any better. The night before the audition, Micky sat at the top of the stairs out of sight and listened as they practiced. Mike and Peter were doing excellently, but Davy messed up again halfway through this song. Usually he just played through it, but this time he heard a loud growl from Davy and saw the drumsticks go flying into the living room, making him jump a little. Peter and Mike immediately stopped playing.

"I just can't do it!" Davy shouted angrily. "It's too hard! I can't do it!"

"Davy, just breathe," Peter said trying to calm Davy down. Micky sighed as he pushed himself up and walked down the stairs.

"Sorry, Micky," Mike said when he saw him. "Did we bother you?" But Micky didn't answer. He walked over to where the drumsticks had landed and picked them up. Without a word he walked over to Davy, sitting behind the drums and red with frustration.

"You're gripping them too tightly," Micky told Davy as he handed them back to Davy. "And you're hands are a bit high. Hold them further towards the bottom, you have better control." Mike, Peter, and Davy just stared at him. Micky smiled at Davy to try and calm him down. "And don't let yourself get flustered, you'll just make more mistakes." Davy took the drumsticks from Micky and held them over the drums ready to try again. He looked up at Micky as if to ask "Am I doing this right?", and Micky shook his head. Davy was still gripping them too tight. Micky walked around and took Davy's hands trying to loosen his fingers. Finally, Davy had a good grip and started playing. This time he was able to get through the harder parts with very few mistakes. Micky smiled. "Keep practicing. I'm going to go for a walk on the beach."

"Thanks!" Davy said before Micky walked through the door in the alcove that led to the beach. He heard them start again, and listened to Davy. He played much better now. Micky wasn't sure what made him do that. He really didn't want to get back into the music again, but he felt he owed them a little help because he couldn't pay for anything yet. If he could help them land that gig, he would.

When he came back to the house, none of the others were there. Micky assumed they must have gone to bed, as they had a big day at the audition tomorrow. He paused at the table where he saw the sheet music for the song. He sat down and studied it. The drum part didn't really look that hard. It took almost 15 minutes for Micky to realize he'd been beating out the drum part with his fingers on the table like he used to do when he needed to practice something at home without waking the whole house. Shaking his head, he too walked up to his room and went to bed.

The next day, Micky said he'd wanted to watch the others audition to show his support. So he sat there in the seats of a large stadium with the other three around him. In various other seats were other bands and acts. In the very front were three men holding clipboards who appeared to be the men holding the auditions. Finally, one of them stood up and walked on stage.

"Alright, ladies and gentleman," he said into the microphone. "We are going to begin this audition. Remember we need 2 bands for an upcoming event hosted here next week. Good luck to everyone." The man got down and returned to his seat.

"The first group please!" the man seated next to him shouted. A group in the corner got up and quickly made their way to the stage and began to play. They had sort of a country western sound to them, but they were really good. As were all the other bands. With each great performance, Micky could see Davy slowly growing paler as he gripped the drumsticks in his hands. Micky hoped Davy would relax so he would remember not to grip the sticks as tightly as he played.

"What number are you guys," Micky whispered to Mike.

"13," Mike replied.

"What an unlucky number," Micky thought out loud with a chuckle, but quickly regretted it, as Davy turned to them with a look of horror on his face.

"I don't think I can do this, guys," Davy said. If his brow had been any more furrowed, Micky would have thought Davy only had one eyebrow. "The others are so good. They sound like they've been playing drums for years. I've only been playing for a few months and only got my first lesson last night!"

"That wasn't really a lesson, Davy," Micky said, and again regretted it when Davy's face went even paler.

"Oh!" he said with a slight squeak.

"Calm down, Davy," Micky tried assuring him. "Do what Peter always says. Breathe. Breathe in, breathe out." They all did this breathing exercise to try and calm Davy down, but it didn't seem to work.

"If we don't get this gig, we can't pay the rent for next month!" Mike shot Davy a look that told him to shut up. "I can't compete with that!" Davy said ignoring Mike and pointed at the stage as the current act did a drum solo.

"Sure you can," Micky said with a chuckle as the rest of the group started playing again, "that guy just lost the beat! He's not keeping up with the rest of the song! You have excellent rhythm."

"I know that, but I'm more suited for percussion than drums. And vocals!"

"Alright, Peter, can I see the song a minute?"

"Sure," Peter said with a confused look, but handed the music over nonetheless.

"Just calm down, Davy," Micky instructed. "It'll be fine. Remember what I told you last night. Loose and low." Micky studied the music again. This time studying the chorus too, where all three of the men sang. There were 4 acts in front of them, and no one said anything during their performances. None of the other saw him as he once again used his fingers as drumsticks against his legs. He was doing this purposefully this time. When the act right in front of them finished, Micky was confident in the song.

"Alright, number 13!" called one of them men from down in front.

"Oh!" Davy gasped out again.

"Here we go," Mike said as he and Peter stood up. Micky was really banking on Davy suddenly getting a wave of confidence in his drumming skills, but judging by the look on his face, that wasn't going to happen, despite Mike and Peter trying to encourage him. The man in front called them again, and Mike answered that they were coming. Micky couldn't take it anymore and stood up.

"Give me the sticks," Micky said forcefully to Davy, holding his hand out.

"What?" Davy asked confused.

"Give me the sticks," Micky repeated.

"Micky, what are you doing?" Mike asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing? Saving your butts! Now come on, they aren't gonna wait very much longer, give me the sticks, Davy." Davy silently handed over the sticks, and Micky leapt over the chairs to get to the aisle as Mike and Peter were still standing in his way, dumbstruck. "Are you guys coming?" he asked halfway to the stage. Mike, Peter and Davy scurried after him. When they got on stage, Micky sat behind the drums. He felt a little flutter in his stomach, but it wasn't nervousness.

"Micky, are you sure you can do this?" Mike whispered to him as Peter set up the piano with nervous glances back at them.

"Yeah, I kinda practiced with my fingers last night and just now in case Davy choked, which I was hoping didn't happen, but it did."

"But…"

"But nothing, I heard what you guys said last week about needing the money. Yes, I don't like playing anymore, but since I haven't been able to find any other way to help you out with money, I kind of have to do this."

"Are you boys ready?" said one of the men sitting just below the stage, rather impatiently.

"Yes, we are, sorry!" Micky said. Then he turned to Peter. "Play!" Peter nodded and started his part. Micky dove in on his cue flawlessly. He chimed in singing the chorus at a higher pitch than Davy, making for the perfect harmony. When they finished, Micky looked out at the men below them. They were smiling and scribbling on their clipboards. Micky felt a rush he hadn't felt in months flow over him. He suddenly realized that Peter, Mike and Davy were all staring at him.

"Thank you," said one of the men below. Micky took that as the cue to go back into the audience to watch the rest of the auditions. When they had returned to their seats, Micky still had a smile on his face. He felt good. Holding the sticks in his hands, he finally felt whole again.

"Wow!" Davy said.

"That was terrific!" Peter said, hugging him. Once again, Micky had to put one foot behind him so as not to fall over; Peter's hugs were very forceful. Mike smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.

"You really did save our butts," he said. "I admit, I wasn't sure if you were gonna be good or not, and I was terrified, but that was amazing."

"Why did you even stop playing," Davy said. "You're excellent!"

"I just didn't feel it anymore," Micky answered.

"Do you feel it now?" Peter asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"Well, then welcome to the band!"

"Wait a minute, Peter," Mike said. All three stared at him. Davy looked almost as if he would sock him.

"What do you mean, Mike?" he asked. "Micky was great!"

"Yes, but I'm not gonna force him into the band. If he wants to join, then we can say it." They all looked at Micky and he suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He had sworn off music, but now he began to ask himself why. Was it just the depression? He couldn't blame it entirely on her. He had been playing and writing music before he had begun dating her. He had lost the spark when she left, but it was his own fault for not trying to find it again. Now he had. The three smiling faces staring at him.

"We need a name," Micky said.

"He said 'we'!" Peter exclaimed, jumping up and down with excitement. Mike held out a hand with a smile.

"Welcome to the band, Micky Dolenz," he said. Micky put his hand on top of Mike's and Davy and Peter followed suit. They were officially a band. Micky just hoped they got this gig so they could continue being a band. If they couldn't pay the rent, who knew what would happen to them. And Micky didn't want this feeling to stop. Not when he finally felt truly happy again.


	4. A New Beginning

Secrets of a Monkee

Summary: Micky meets his best friends during his darkest hour. Years later, his past comes back to haunt him. Can his friends help pull him back again?

Author's note: Ok, I tried figuring out how to do a line break in between time jumps, but can't figure out how to make do it, so I give up. Shorter chapter, but oh well. Next chapter will jump forward about 4 years. I don't own any of the songs. I know the boys didn't actually write them (mostly :D), etc. all that legal jazz. Anyway, on with the story!

Chapter 4: A New Beginning

"Micky's right," Mike said. "We need a name." They were back at the house, and all in a really good mood. They were sitting down at the table, and Mike had gotten a small notepad and a pen to jot down possible names. Mike tore the top sheet off that already had scribble on it and put it in the middle of the table. Micky took it and folded it up in the shape of a triangle. He wasn't really thinking about what he wanted to do with the paper, but he was too happy to sit still. Mike sat to his left and was lost in thought. Peter sat across from Micky, a large smile plastered on his face. Davy sat to Micky's right, also smiling, but trying to help Mike think of names for the band.

"We've never had a name before," Davy said.

"Yeah, which may be part of the reason we never got good gigs," Mike said tapping the pen against the paper. He jumped a little when Micky flicked the triangle paper across the table like a tiny football. Peter caught it and laughed before flicking it back. "How about The Inevitables?"

"What?" Micky asked, thinking the name sounded incredibly stupid. "No!" he said with a flick of the paper back at Peter, who caught it again.

"What about The Creeps?" Davy asked. "Nevermind." He said before anyone could protest. "I didn't think that one through." Peter laughed and flicked the paper back at Micky.

"Cut that out," Mike said with a slight annoyance. "What about The Turtles?"

"I think that name is already taken," Peter said. Mike looked at Peter, thinking about it.

"Is it?"

"Yeah," Peter said as Micky took the paper and tried sticking it under Mike's hat.

"Don't do that," Mike said flatly when he realized what Micky was doing. But Peter and Davy laughed. "Ok, then what else?"

"Dunno," Micky flicked the paper back at Peter.

"Will you two quit monkeying around for 5 seconds?" Mike now sounded agitated, but Micky laughed in spite of that.

"Hey, how 'bout that?" Peter asked.

"What?" Mike asked.

"What about The Monkeys?"

"Sounds cool, but I don't know." Mike scribbled it on the paper and stared at it. "Doesn't look right." Micky grabbed the paper from him and wrote underneath it "The Monkees" before sliding it back across the table to Mike.

"What about that?"

"It's the same thing, just misspelled, Micky."

"Yes, I realize that. But one of the biggest bands of all time misspelled _their_ name. You know, a little band called The Beatles?"

"I like it!" Davy said. Peter nodded in agreement. Mike thought it over for a moment, before he too warmed up to it.

"So it's settled," Mike said as he circled the name. "We're The Monkees." After that, it was pure pandemonium for the rest of the day, mostly from Micky and Peter pulling more antics including tossing a little stuffed monkey around like a football. Micky finally felt free and open, so he and Peter goofed off until the phone finally rang. Mike was closest to the phone and answered on the second ring.

"Hello?" he said into the receiver before pausing to hear the other person. "Yeah, this is Mr. Nesmith." There was another pause as Mike listened. "Really? Thanks!" There was a long pause and Mike's face flattened a little. "Oh. Ok, sure. Thanks." Mike hung up and turned to face Micky, Peter and Davy who were all listening.

"Was that for the gig?" Davy asked, even though they hadn't expected a call from them so quickly.

"Yeah, we got it," Mike answered. The others cheered. "We are going to play 6 songs, then they are going to do this little awards ceremony thing, then the other band is going to play. But they said they wanted all our songs to be original."

"So no covers?" Peter said.

"But we only have one song," Davy said.

"Peter, didn't you say that you had other songs?" Micky asked.

"Well, yeah, but just a few," Peter said. "I have 2 more that are close to being done."

"Let's see them," Micky said. "Maybe we can finish them up."

"Even if we did, we need 3 more songs."

"There's no way we can write 3 songs AND learn them in a week," Mike said.

"We'll worry about that later," Micky said. "Let's see what you have, Peter."

"Ok," Peter answered and went to his room, returning only a moment later. He set the music down on the table and the other three looked over the first one.

"I like this one!" Davy said.

"And it's got such a great title," Micky teased.

"Hey, I'm not being egotistical there," Peter argued, "'For Pete's Sake' is a very common phrase!"

"I know!" Micky laughed. "I'm just teasing!"

"It's a nice song," Mike said. "What makes you think it's not finished?"

"It just doesn't sound right," Peter said sitting down into the chair. "I think it's too hippy-ish."

"Nothing wrong with that," Micky laughed. "One of my best friends is a hippy."

"Who?" Peter asked, clueless. Micky just stared at him.

"YOU!" Micky laughed.

"Really? I'm one of your best friends?"

"Well, I only have 3 friends in the world, so it's not hard to get that title."

"Maybe you could bring the other two over sometime," Davy chuckled, carrying on with the joke.

"Funny, Davy." Micky said, laughing with Davy, Mike and Peter. "I don't know, Peter, I think it'll sound good," He grabbed the paper and began to sing it. He sang one verse and looked at Peter who looked really happy.

"It does sound good now that I hear you sing it!" Peter said with excitement. "You should be the one to sing it at the show."

"It's your song, Peter," Micky argued.

"Yeah, and I like the way you sing it, so I want you to do it." Micky didn't argue anymore. He respected Peter's wish for him to sing it. They looked at the other song Peter had written. It was a beautiful song called "I Wanna be Free". The imagery in it was beautiful and the music was wistful and simple. Davy really seemed to like it, and when he sang a few bars, his British accent made the song sound captivating. So after deciding Davy would sing this song for their performance, they had chosen 3 out of the 6 songs needed.

"Well, what do we do now?" Mike asked. "We need 3 more songs."

"Well…." Micky said getting up from the table. "I'll be right back." Micky ran over to the staircase, but instead of climbing up it normally, he jumped grabbed the bottom of the railing and pulled himself up and over. Walking into his room, he crossed over to one of the boxed he'd left unpacked. In the bottom of the box were the 5 binders full of songs he had written. He grabbed them and made his way back to the table where the others were waiting for him.

"What are those?" Peter asked.

"Well, these are songs that I have written," Micky answered, setting them down on the table. "Go ahead and look through them and let me know what you like."

"These are all full," Mike said in astonishment.

"How long have you been writing exactly?" Davy asked in equal astonishment, grabbing the top binder and opening it.

"Uh…" Micky thought and Mike and Peter each started flipping through another binder, "I don't know, maybe a little under 10 years. I got my first set of drumsticks when I was 9, and started there. Most of them are really bad, but my mom convinced me to always keep them anyway."

"Wow," Davy said, stopping on one of them. "This one looks beautiful." Micky looked over his shoulder and froze. Of course Davy would have to choose that one. "I think we should do this one."

"I don't know," Micky said, really not wanting to sing that song ever again. He really should have thrown it away.

"It's a gorgeous love song. So different from Peter's. I think it'll be good to have a nice mix of sounds."

"I agree," Mike said. "This one looks good, too. You are very talented." Micky cringed at seeing the one Mike had chosen. Why did Mike and Davy have to pick two of the songs he'd written for her, back when they were still desperately in love? Micky really didn't think he could ever perform those songs again.

"Yeah, this is a really good song," Davy said, taking the song out of the binder carefully and putting it in the middle of the table. "I vote to do this one." Before Micky could grab the song, Mike picked it up and looked it over.

"I agree with Davy," he said. "I vote for this one, too. And I think we should do this one, too." Mike pulled the other one from the binder as well and gave it to Davy. Davy read it over and agreed emphatically. Micky didn't think he could get out of this anymore. But it was up to Peter, who now reached for the songs. Micky secretly hoped that Peter wouldn't like them, but he did.

"These are beautiful love songs," Peter said. "It almost seems like you wrote these for someone."

"I….uh….I did," Micky said, sitting down at the table now, resigned to the fact he'd have to do these songs. They were two of his best songs after all, and it was because he was so in love with her. With a loud sigh, he took the songs from Peter. "I wrote 'I'm a Believer' when I was a sophomore right after I started dating her and 'Sometime in the Morning' I wrote…" Micky trailed off. He really didn't want to go into detail about it. "Later." He said. He looked up to notice the others looking at him with concern on their faces.

"Are you gonna be ok to do these?" Mike asked. Micky sighed again, not wanting to, but somehow thinking he needed to push himself to get completely out of this funk.

"One way to find out," Micky said. He swallowed and started to sing "Sometime in the Morning". He felt a pull at his heart as images of her flowed through his mind. The song was slow and sweet, the perfect love ballad. He had never gotten the chance to sing it to her, but knew she would have loved it. Halfway through, he felt his eyes start to well with tears and his throat caught. He looked up at his friends, who were all looking at him with amazement on their faces. Micky swallowed to clear his throat and pushed forward. He was doing this for them now. The song didn't mean anything anymore. It was just a song now.

"Wow," Peter muttered when Micky had finished.

"You have an excellent voice," Davy added. Mike nodded his own agreement.

"Thanks," Micky said rather sheepishly. "I think I want to change them a bit before we play, though. Make them different. Maybe speed them up a little and make 'Sometime in the Morning' less of a ballad. Also add parts for you guys to do some harmonies."

"Sure," Peter said. "That should sound good, too."

"We still need another song," Mike said, grabbing the binder in front of him again.

"Actually, can I choose the last one?" Peter asked. Micky noticed he had his finger holding place in the binder he had flipped through. Micky recognized it as one of his earliest binders; the one with the worst songs. "I like this one. It's different. Catchy." Peter flipped open to a spot halfway through and laid the binder on the table. Micky didn't immediately recognize it. He could tell it was definitely middle school handwriting, though. The title read "Saturday's Child".

"I don't even remember that one," Micky said, pulling the binder closer to him. Reading over it, he suddenly remembered it and burst out laughing, before sliding it over to Davy and Mike to read. "Oh wow! I haven't thought about this one in a long time! My sister and I actually did this one. Well, kinda. Our neighbor was quite the ladies' man, only his wife didn't find that out for years. My sister and I would see so many girls coming and going, and she joked that he must have one girl for each day of the week. We sat around and started describing them, and somehow that song came out of it." Davy and Peter both laughed; Mike smiled.

"I like it," Mike said. "I think it we should do it."

"I wrote that in 7th grade!" Micky exclaimed. "It can't be _that_ good!"

"It kinda is," Davy said now that he had looked over it.

"Alright, whatever you guys say," Micky got up with his songs to start working on them and adding parts for the others. "Mike, mind if I borrow your guitar?"

"Sure," Mike answered. "You play guitar, too?"

"Yeah, wanna hear a little?"

"Sure!" Peter nearly shouted. Micky laughed; he really did have a passion for music. He would breathe it if he could. Micky grabbed Mike's guitar and sat down. Only one song came to mind in that moment, though. He played the song he had modified a long time ago and used in most auditions he went to in high school: Johnny B. Goode.

"You're good on the guitar, too!" Peter said when he'd finished. Micky smiled, sheepishly again, and thanked Peter.

Over the next few days, the boys practiced Peter's songs until their fingers were almost raw. Micky was also reworking his songs the other three had picked, so that they could all sing. When he finished, he called them over to look at the changes. They all agreed they liked them, and began practicing those as well.

By the time they had to perform, they had the songs down solid. It was a lot of painstaking work and Micky's arms felt sore as the four of them stood in the wings waiting to perform. Peter and Mike had complained about their fingers starting to hurt. Peter even had a blister on one of them. But the money would make it all worth it. Peter looked out into the audience and ducked back in very quickly.

"There are a lot of people out there!" Peter exclaimed.

"Really?" Mike said, pulling back the curtain to get a look for himself.

"How many do you think are out there?" Davy asked.

"Maybe a hundred."

"You guys aren't nervous, are you?" Micky asked.

"A little," Davy said. "I've never played for that many people. Maybe 20 or 30, but not a hundred."

"I have," Micky said. "I played at several school assemblies in high school. Mostly songs they wanted me to do, but I did a couple of my own. My school was huge, too. Probably a couple thousand kids who didn't want to be there."

"I did that, too," Peter said. "For a talent show. Although, I don't think any school in Connecticut has a couple thousand kids. Maybe a couple hundred."

"Yeah," Micky said, giving Davy a reassuring pat on the back. "Once the light hits the stage, you don't even really see them. It's much too bright. I used to think about wearing sunglasses when I perform." Before anyone could say anything else, the announcer started speaking into the microphone.

"Welcome, ladies and gentleman," he started, "to our 4th annual employee benefit awards. As you know, we opened 30 more stores across the country this year and it has all been thanks to you! In order to celebrate, we are going to start off the night with a little entertainment. Please welcome a local band: The Monkees!" All four wandered onto the stage to loud applause. They all exchanged looks saying they were ready once they had all settled into their spots. Mike counted out a beat quietly and they began to play.

The performance seemed to go by quickly for Micky. With the exception of the audition, he hadn't performed for months. He felt the rush of excitement as the crowd applauded each song. He briefly stole glances at the others, who also seemed to be enjoying themselves. It was as if they had been performing for years as a group. Everything flowed perfectly together. All the blood, sweat, and tears they put into learning these songs paid off. After the show, the manager who had hired them even gave them an extra $50 and told them he would keep them in mind for upcoming events. Micky knew this was the start of a whole new life for him. And he loved it.

_Ending author's note: Yes, there will be more. These last few chapters have taken place about two years prior to the events of the show and the next ones will take place a few months after the show. They will have been together for four years. And little trivia for you: the band names I came up with were actual names considered by Bob and Bert before they decided on "The Monkees" and yes, Micky really did sing and play guitar on Johnny B. Goode at the audition for the show. Hope you guys like the little bits I threw in there. There was one I threw in last chapter, too. Kudos to whoever finds it! Hint, it's not something technically happened, but I saw it on the made for tv movie "Daydream Believers" and loved it, as did Micky on the commentary track for the movie. Lol. _


	5. Reunion

Secrets of a Monkee

Summary: Micky meets his best friends during his darkest hour. Years later, his past comes back to haunt him. Can his friends help pull him back again?

Author's note: I'm cranking these out faster than I thought I would. Hopefully I can keep up the pace. I'm just having so much fun doing this, and the reviews keep me motivated to keep doing more!

Chapter 5: Reunion

Micky awoke with a slight headache. Climbing out of bed, he looked at the clock. It was nearly noon, but that didn't surprise him, since he had stayed out till nearly 3 with his girlfriend Linda. What surprised him is that his friends let him sleep in this late. It had been 4 years since he had met the other three men. They had been through a lot in that time. They had fought spies and gangsters; they had saved a circus and a horse. They had been to Vegas, New York, England and even Texas to visit Mike's family. Micky loved his new friends. They were like the brothers he never had.

He pulled on a shirt, but left it unbuttoned as he made his way downstairs in his sweatpants. He found Mike sitting at the table, strumming on his guitar. Peter was sitting in the stage area, looking over some music. Davy was nowhere to be found, however. No one said anything as Micky entered the kitchen and opened the fridge. This was rather odd, since Micky had slept so late. He expected Mike, at the very least, to berate him for sleeping so late, or even for how late he had sauntered in the night before.

"Hey, Mike," Micky said as he reached in the fridge to grab some orange juice. "Hey, Pete."

"Mmmm," Mike and Peter both responded clearly lost in their own worlds.

"So, what's going on?" Micky tried again, now grabbing a box of corn flakes, a bowl and a spoon.

"Mmmm," they both responded again. Micky chuckled a little.

"So, I decided to marry Linda last night," Micky lied, just trying to get a human response out of one of them. "We are going to run off and get hitched today."

"That's nice," Peter said absently. Micky thought harder for something more outrageous to try and snap them into the real world.

"We are going to adopt a little orphaned circus child we met last night with his pet elephant."

"That's great, Mick," Mike mumbled.

"Think I'll let the elephant stay down here."

"Sure thing," Peter said absently. What in the world had happened to these guys to get them so lost in their own worlds? Micky gave up and poured his cereal into the bowl, adding orange juice instead of milk. When he sat down at the table to eat it, Davy walked in.

"Are you eating that gross mess again?" Davy asked, sitting at the table.

"Haha," Micky said with his mouth full.

"You Americans have such horrible table manners."

"Yeah, I've seen you cut your salad into little tiny squares," Micky said after swallowing. "Hey, check out the zombies." Micky indicated Mike and Peter. "So I think I'm going to train that elephant to play drums."

"Sure," Mike said, just as absently as before. Micky smiled and ate his cereal.

"Elephant?" Davy said.

"I made up this story about marrying Linda, adopting a kid and letting his elephant move in here to see if the zombies would say anything." Davy laughed and poked Mike in the arm.

"Hey!" Mike said, finally snapping out of his haze. Micky took Davy's cue and threw a pillow from the couch at Peter.

"What!?" Peter jumped up in fright.

"Good morning, zombies," Micky laughed.

"Micky said you've both been out of it and ignoring him," Davy offered at their confused looks. "Even made up something about an elephant playing drums."

"That would be something I'd like to see," Peter laughed walking over to the table with the other three.

"Sorry, Micky, I was just thinking about this beautiful woman I met last night," Mike said putting down his guitar. He turned up his nose when he noticed what Micky was eating though. "That's gross."

"You met a girl last night?" Peter asked. "So did I. The most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes upon."

"I met a picture of beauty myself just now," Davy said. Micky was the only one tied to anyone at that time, so he had to laugh at their love struck faces.

"Really?" Micky asked. "Did any of you ask this beautiful girl you met out?"

"No," they all replied at once.

"I met her in the park," Peter said. "She was handing out sandwiches to the homeless people. I asked if I could help."

"I met her at the store," Mike said. "She accidentally bumped into me and dropped the basket of food she had. Milk spilled everywhere, so of course I helped her clean it up."

"I met her at the music store," Davy added. "She was trying to pick out a guitar. We talked about the differences for a while and I told her about our band."

"But none of you asked the girl out?" Micky asked. He could see Peter being too shy, but Davy at least was usually really good with the girls.

"She wore a purple dress," Mike said, clearly not listening again.

"She had the most beautiful green eyes," Davy said.

"She had long, beautiful red hair that smelled like sunshine," Peter added.

"Sunshine?" Micky laughed. "What does sunshine smell like, exactly?"

"That's odd," Mike said, now looking at Davy and Peter. "The girl I met had red hair and green eyes, too."

"Yeah, and the girl I met was wearing a purple dress," Peter said, also getting slightly confused.

"Well, mine was wearing a purple shirt and jeans," Davy added, "but she did have red hair." Micky had a sinking feeling he knew where this was going. He stood up and put his now empty bowl in the sink and pushed himself up to sit on the counter, far away from the table.

"So, uh, what is her name?" Micky asked, but he thought he already knew how they were going to answer.

"Lily," they all said in unison. Micky cringed. He was right; they had all fallen for the same girl. Again. They all stared at each other, daring another to say something else.

"Ok!" Micky said, trying to break the tension, "So we agreed once before that if more than one of us got hung up on the same girl we wouldn't fight."

"Who's fighting?" Mike asked standing up. "She gave me her phone number."

"She told me to come back to the park tonight to help out again," Peter said, also standing up, trying to square off with Mike.

"She invited me to come to the park to listen to her play guitar tonight!" Davy said, also standing up, but with his height, he didn't look near as intimidating as Mike or Peter. Micky knew he'd have to jump in between them to prevent the fight that was sure to ensue, despite the pledge they'd taken when they'd all fallen for the Laundromat girl. Despite fearing injury himself, he jumped down and moved towards the table.

"Guys," he started, trying to diffuse the situation. "Calm down, ok. We have an audition in a few hours, so we need to just forget about this Lily and move on."

"I'm still going to the park tonight," Peter said.

"Me too," Davy added.

"Well then I'm going, too!" Mike said. Micky hung his head. This was going to be bad. Very bad.

"Let's practice!" Micky said, trying to get their minds off her at least, and on the audition. It worked temporarily. They played well during the practice, but no one said anything on the drive to the audition. The tension in the car was almost too much for Micky to bear and was thankful when they pulled into a parking space in front of a large dance club. They walked into the club in silence, but as soon as they got backstage where they were directed to wait, Mike, Davy and Peter began arguing. Micky sat there and tried to think of something to say to stop this nonsense, but he couldn't think of anything before Mike suddenly went rigid.

"It's her," he squeaked out. Micky lowered his head in his hands in despair. It was all over now.

"It is," Peter agreed.

"What is she doing here?" Davy asked.

"She's going on stage," Mike said. "Why?"

"She must be auditioning," Davy said. "That's why she was looking for that guitar this morning."

"I'm gonna watch her," Peter said. Before Micky could stop him, Peter walked over to the wings to watch the girl perform. Mike and Davy joined him.

"Guys, this is a bad idea," Micky said, also walking over to them. But then she began singing and he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Wow," Mike breathed.

"She can sing," Davy said.

"Voice of an angel," Peter added. Micky groaned. He would know that voice anywhere. He forced himself over to where the others stood watching her and got his first glimpse of the girl the other three had fallen so deeply for. Sure enough, there she stood. Red hair halfway down her back. Green eyes glittering. Pale skin shining. A picture of pure beauty. But why did the guys say her name was "Lily"? But then Micky remembered; her first name was Lily. He had always called her by her middle name. She finished her song and several people in the audience clapped.

"Lily, darling," came another familiar voice, and Micky's stomach dropped to the floor at the sound of it. "That was beautiful, but you can't sing at your own party."

"Darling?" Mike squeaked out.

"Please tell me that's not her boyfriend," Davy added.

"I know, Daddy," she said, and the three boys let out a sigh of relief. "But I wanted to show these guys how to do it." With a giggle she began walking backstage again. There was only one other band back here with Micky and the others, but they were soon directed on stage, leaving just Micky backstage.

"Hi, Lily!" he heard Peter say. Was Lily coming backstage? Micky quickly grabbed a newspaper and sat down, shoving it in front of his face, hoping to completely obscure himself behind it and become invisible.

"Peter, Davy, Mike," she said. "It's so nice to see you again. I didn't realize you all knew each other. This is your band, Davy?" Sure enough, her voice was getting closer.

"Well, it's not really _his_ band," Mike said with a slightly annoyed laugh. "It's OUR band."

"We're the Monkees," Peter added. Micky rolled his eyes. He couldn't let this happen. He couldn't let ANY of his friends get involved with her. "I play bass, Davy plays percussion, Mike plays guitar and Micky plays…" Peter trailed off. "Where is Micky?"

"Hiding behind that paper for some reason," Mike offered. 'NO!' Micky's mind screamed.

"Oh!" Peter laughed.

"He plays drums," Davy said. "Which really isn't all that hard. I tried it once, but found it very boring."

"Yeah, cause shaking a tambourine on stage is very challenging," Mike snipped. "The guitar is incredibly difficult, as I'm sure you know."

"Well, I had a good teacher when I was in school," Lily replied. "He made it fun, which makes it easier, in my opinion." Micky rolled his eyes.

"I play the piano and the banjo, too!" Peter offered, trying to one-up Mike. "And I wrote some of our songs."

"Micky wrote some, too," Davy said, trying to burst Peter's bubble. It killed Micky to hear them trying to impress her, but he was too afraid to come out from behind the paper.

"I've begun writing a few myself," Mike said slyly.

"I think mine are better," Peter said. "Tell her, Micky!" Micky saw Peter's hand come in front of the paper, trying to pull it down, but Micky just jerked it away from him.

"Micky, why are you hiding behind that?" Davy asked.

"I guess he's just really shy around such pretty girls," Mike offered.

"He has a girlfriend," Davy retorted. "Micky, will you stop being rude and say hello to Lily?"

"I like your boots, Micky," Lily said, trying to coax him out. Micky fought back the retort he had building in his head that would have told her where he could put them if she liked them so much.

"Come on, Micky," Peter pleaded. "You're never shy like this."

"Oh, just leave him," Mike said. "Lily, you have an absolutely angelic voice."

"Thank you, Mike," she said sweetly. Micky felt his teeth grind together in anger.

"Micky, you're being really rude," Davy said. He quickly grabbed the paper away from Micky before Micky could stop him and found himself face to face with Lily.

"Well!" She snorted. "You know, I have to agree with Davy. It's not very polite to hide in front of a pretty lady."

"Well, if you see any pretty ladies around here, be sure to point them out," Micky snapped.

"MICKY!" Davy, Peter and Mike all yelled at him. But Micky smiled and stood up. That had felt really good.

"I see," Lily said. "But didn't Davy say you already had a girlfriend? You wouldn't be looking to play the field, now would you?"

"Of course not, I merely wanted to insult you," Micky snapped back. The other three quickly moved to surround Micky, clearly trying to make him stop talking, but Micky took a step forward, eluding their grasps. "You on the other hand seem to be doing a great job of stringing along three innocent boys at once."

"Stringing them on? It's not my fault they find me attractive. I never gave the inclination that I wanted to date any of them."

"But you are enjoying watching them trip over themselves to try and praise you," Micky now glared at her.

"Micky, stop," Mike said behind him. "She's not leading any of us on."

"Yeah, you're being very mean, Micky," Peter said, sounding rather upset. But Micky didn't care. He wasn't going to let her toy with his friends. Not now that he wasn't hiding behind a newspaper like a coward. He'd remember to thank Davy later.

"Yes, Micky, you are being very mean," Lily said with a sneer.

"Oh, sorry," Micky said. "Can the little desert flower not take the heat?"

"You know, it is a little hot in here." She grabbed a large pitcher of water sitting on the table and moved to pour herself a drink. With one swift movement, however, she moved toward Micky and dumped it all over him. The other three jumped back and Micky gasped in shock as the cold water flowed all down his body.

"What was THAT for?!" he sputtered.

"You are a horrible little man, Micky," she sneered. "You deserve that."

"Oh, and you're such a saint? You are a truly evil person, you know that?" Micky spat back.

"Go rot!" Lily said as she turned on her heel and left. Micky tried to dry himself off, but it was no use.

"What were you thinking!?" Mike asked, stepping around to face Micky. "Now we're not going to get this gig!"

"We were never gonna get this gig," Micky replied, grabbing his drumsticks and leaving himself.

"What do you mean by that?" Peter asked, following him after grabbing his bass. But Micky didn't answer him. Peter pestered him all the way out to the car.

"Just forget it!" Micky yelled, whirling upon Peter in anger when they had all reached the car. He saw the shocked faces of Davy, Mike and Peter staring back at him, but his anger overwhelmed his guilt. "Forget it! Forget her, forget the gig, forget it! It's over!" They drove the rest of the way in silence. Micky couldn't even bring himself to look at his friends, but knew they were angry at him for yelling at them.

When they got back to the pad, Micky said he was going to change into some clean clothes and disappeared into his room. He could hear the others talking below as he leaned against the door.

"You think he got mad because we were all fawning over the same girl?" Peter asked. He sounded very guilt-ridden.

"Maybe," Mike said. "He had a point earlier. We did promise each other not to do that."

"And we said some pretty mean things about each other just to try and impress her," Davy added.

"We'll apologize to him later," Mike said. "For now, let's give him space." Micky sighed with a sudden wave of guilt crippling him. He wasn't mad at them, and he didn't want them to think that. They didn't know what he and Lily had really been fighting about. They didn't know that he and Lily even knew each other. Micky would have to tell them the truth, but he knew it was best if he waited until he calmed down more. He'd tell them in the morning after he'd have a chance to sleep it off.

The next morning Micky woke up at a much more decent hour. He'd stayed locked up in his room the rest of the day yesterday and hadn't seen the others at all. But he'd had nightmares from his guilt and was drenched in sweat. He decided to take a shower before he talked to them. Getting out of bed, he crossed over to his closet to grab some clothes, but didn't find any. He'd forgotten to do laundry the night before. He'd just have to ask Mike or Peter to borrow something and do it today. But none of them were in the living room when he went down. Micky just shrugged and made his way to the bathroom.

The shower felt good. He didn't realize how tense he was. He took a long shower to let the hot water massage his sore muscles slightly. When the water started getting cold, he shut it off and got out. He heard voices coming from the living room, and realized the boys must have come out of their rooms. He wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the door.

"Hey, Mike, Peter," he said, walking into the living room, "I didn't do laundry and I am out of clothes so I was wondering if I could borrow something…." He stopped dead in his tracks when he realized Mike, Peter and Davy weren't alone in the kitchen.

"Rose!" he sputtered out instinctively. Davy, Micky and Peter all suddenly looked confused and mouth "Rose?" to each other. "What are you doing here?!" He suddenly realized the only thing he was wearing was a towel. She must have realized it too, because he saw her blush. He couldn't help notice her eyes travel up and down his body, though.

"I….uh…." she stumbled over her words, staring at his bare chest. "I wanted to apologize."

"Okay. Thanks. Bye!"

"Well, wait, I wanted to talk about it." Rose protested. Micky sighed. He really didn't want to talk about anything with her. Especially naked.

"Can I at least go put some pants on?" Micky asked.

"Um….I kind of told my…..ummm…..fiancé I'd be a minute,"

"FIANCE!?" Micky sputtered.

"Yes, that's what you were auditioning for. My wedding reception."

"Well, then I'm glad I walked out."

"Look, I was out of line with the water," Rose said, looking at his face now. "I was angry, and I got carried away."

"You know, you really could have called to say all this." Micky said, still feeling very uncomfortable, especially knowing her fiancé was just outside.

"No. I felt I owed it to you in person. And I know of another audition, and signed you guys up. I felt bad for ruining yesterdays, and despite how I feel about you, it's not fair to your friends."

"I really don't think we would have gotten the gig, even if we had stayed. The moment your father saw me, he would have kicked us off the stage and all the way to China. If he didn't pound my face into the stage, that is."

"He wouldn't have done that."

"Yeah, right."

"No, really. I didn't tell him what happened. He doesn't know what happened."

"What? Why didn't you tell him?"

"I really don't want to talk about it. Just be here tomorrow." She slipped a piece of paper into his hand, and Micky shivered at her touch. It took her a moment to pull away from him, too. Before he could say anything else, she left.

"What just happened?" Mike asked. Micky suddenly remembered his three friends.

"I thought her name was Lily?" Peter asked.

"That's the only thing you're confused about?" Davy asked bewildered.

"Look, guys, sit down," Micky said. "Actually, Mike, can I borrow some pants first?"

"Sure," Mike said before ducking into his room. Micky began walking up the stairs to his room to grab some boxers. When he was halfway up, Mike re-emerged with a pair of sweats that Micky had worn his first day in the house. Mike threw them up the stairs, and Micky caught them.

Moments later, he walked back down the stairs, this time with pants on. The three were sitting at the kitchen table waiting for him.

"Let's start by making a rule," Micky said, sitting down. "If there's a girl in the house, we announce it very loudly, especially if one of us is in the shower."

"Sorry about that," Mike said. "I really didn't think you'd walk out naked."

"At least you were wearing the towel," Peter offered, and they all laughed.

"Ok, talk to us," Mike said.

"First off, her name is Lily Rose Larson," Micky said. "She went by Rose the whole time I knew her. Not sure why she's suddenly going by Lily."

"How do you know her?" Davy asked.

"Remember when I said that I wrote 'I'm a Believer' and 'Sometime in the Morning' for a specific girl? That girl is Rose. Lily. Whatever."

"Oh," Mike said.

"Yeah, it was her picture that you guys found on the floor of my room when I was uhh….drunk that night. She and I dated for most of high school and just after moving down here, she broke up with me."

"She's the reason you stopped playing?" Davy asked.

"Yeah."

"Why did she break up with you?" Peter asked. Micky sighed, not really wanting to answer, but knowing he owed it to them.

"She thought I was cheating on her."

"Why would she think that?" Mike asked. "You didn't, did you?"

"Of course not! I don't know where she got the idea, but she said he had proof. She never told me what it was, though."

"Oh, wow," Davy said. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, if we had known, we never would have fawned over her," Mike added.

"How could you guys have known?" Micky said. "I never told you."

"Yeah, but," Peter started, but Micky stood up and cut him off.

"No more," he said with a sigh. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's over; we don't have to deal with her anymore, so can we please move on?"

"Sure," Mike said. "What time is the audition tomorrow?"

"5," Micky said looking at the note in his hand. He handed it to Mike so he didn't have to touch it anymore. "Here's the address. You hang on to it so we don't lose it. I'm meeting Linda again tonight, so I'll be heading out in a few hours."

"Sure, but don't stay out too late," Mike said. They spent the rest of the day the way they normally would. A little music practice or some tweaking of music and a lot of goofing off. But Micky was mostly putting on a front for his friends. He found his thoughts frequently drifting back to Rose, even though he knew he shouldn't for fear of going down that dark road again.


	6. An Old Friend

Secrets of a Monkee

Summary: Micky meets his best friends during his darkest hour. Years later, his past comes back to haunt him. Can his friends help pull him back again?

Author's note: started adding (break) where there should be a line break between time jumps or perspective jumps. can't figure out how to do it on here….let me know what you think!

Chapter 6: An Old Friend

Mike whistled a little as he walked up to the door of his house. He, Davy and Peter had promised to vacate the house for a few hours that night to let Micky have a date night with his girlfriend Linda. He had gone to the movies, and Peter and Davy had gone to a nearby stable to ride horses. Mike had stopped for some food on the way home, trying to give Micky a little more time with Linda, but it was now close to 10 at night and Mike was really tired. He'd been thinking all day about the bombshell Micky had laid on them that morning about Lily, or Rose, or whatever her name was. He knew he shouldn't feel guilty because there really was no way he could have possibly known who she was, but he still felt bad for trying to win over Micky's ex. That was always a big taboo for him. You never, ever went out with your best friends ex.

When he got to the front door, he put his key in the lock to unlock it. He opened the door and walked in. He didn't immediately see or hear anyone, however, so he assumed Micky had gone up to bed. Halfway through the living room, he saw Micky and Linda lying on their couch, however. He turned to quickly make his way to his room when he saw they were in the middle of a very passionate kiss. Before he could leave, he heard Micky make the greatest error any man could ever make, and his stomach fell to the floor. Micky whispered Rose's name instead of Linda's. Mike watched, frozen in horror as Linda pushed Micky off her.

"Excuse me?" Linda demanded.

"I..uh…" Micky stammered.

"Who is Rose?"

"No one," Micky lied. "I…uh…you smell like a rose. That's what I meant."

"You're a terrible liar, Micky," Linda said as she reached for a bowl sitting next to her. Mike could only watch as she dumped the contents of the bowl on Micky's head. Micky let out a small yelp and Mike realized it was half melted ice cream. Linda bolted up, grabbed her bag and stormed out. Mike jumped when he heard the door slam behind him.

"Linda, wait!" Micky tried calling after her. But she was gone. Then Micky's eyes met Mike's and Mike saw a flash of anger cross Micky's face. "How long have you been standing there?" Micky demanded, walking over to the sink to clean himself off.

"Long enough to know you are having problems," Mike answered. "I didn't mean to….I mean, I didn't see anything. Well, I did, but once I realized you were still here with her, I tried to quickly duck into my room, but uh…kinda froze when I heard your little faux pas." He tried to help Micky get the ice cream out of his hair, but Micky just brushed him away.

"I'm not having problems," Micky snapped.

"The ice cream in your hair would beg to differ." Mike started to laugh, but fought it back when Micky glared at him. "Want to talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about."

"I don't know, Micky. Saying your ex's name while kissing your current girlfriend is kind of a perfect sign of something psychological going on." Peter and Davy suddenly came in, both laughing. They froze when they saw Micky.

"What happened to you?" Davy asked. Peter walked over and picked a chunk of ice cream off Micky's shoulder.

"Is that ice cream?" Peter asked with a chuckle.

"Linda dumped a bowl on his head," Mike explained. Micky shot him another dirty look.

"You must be joking!" Davy exclaimed. "Why would she do that?"

"Never mind why she did it!" Micky yelled and threw the hand towel he was using to clean himself off in the sink. Mike's heart went out to Micky. He obviously still had feelings for Rose. "Just forget it. I'm going to bed." Before they could say anything else, Micky stormed off to his room. Peter and Davy both looked at Mike for an explanation.

"He uh….he kinda said Rose's name while kissing Linda," Mike said quietly, not wanting Micky to hear him.

"Wow," Peter said. "That's bad."

"I think he's still hung up on her," Mike said.

"Well, yeah," Davy agreed. "Why else would he say her name like that?"

"I'm just worried about him not talking about it, you know?" Mike said, thinking back to when they had first met Micky. He had never really seen Micky angry at him like this before, and he just hoped that Micky felt better in the morning.

(Break)

After the audition the next night, Micky still felt a slight anger piercing his chest as the four walked out to their car. He tried to ignore it, knowing that his friends were only trying to help him. He knew he was more angry at himself than anything else. He knew that Mike was right. He hadn't really thought about Rose in a long time. He'd only had the occasional dreams about her; but he hadn't given much thought to his feelings about her. After last night's events, he couldn't hide the truth from himself anymore. He was still in love with her. He'd never really gotten over her. Then again, had he even tried? Sure, he dated other women, but he never got close to any of them. He never really stayed with one girl longer than a few months.

"That was awesome!" Peter said, snapping Micky out of his thoughts. "I think we nailed that audition!" Micky laughed. He really loved how excited Peter got sometimes. Micky finished loading his drums into the car. The others had already loaded their respective instruments.

"We'll find out tomorrow, Pete," Mike said, trying to tell Peter not to get his hopes up.

"Yeah, but people really seemed to like us!" Peter now climbed onto the trunk of the car to sit.

"I know I did," came a voice familiar to Micky. He looked up and saw three men, one being flanked by the other two, coming towards them. He recognized two of them immediately. The anger he felt intensified. "That was a really good performance. You are very talented men."

"Thank you!" Peter said happily.

"Although your drummer might need a little work." The man added, ignoring Peter. Micky pushed himself out in front of the other three.

"Micky performed admirably," Davy said.

"It was a joke, shorty," the man said.

"Forgive me for not laughing, Tony," Micky said.

"Another friend of yours?" Mike asked.

"I wouldn't say friend," Micky answered. "But Tony and I went to high school together. As well as his little lackey over here, Freddie. Don't know who that is." Micky indicated the third man.

"I must say, I'm a little hurt, Micky," Tony said. "I thought we were still friends." Tony now turned to Mike. "Micky and I had been best friends ever since kindergarten."

"'Had been' being the operative phrase there, Tony," Micky sneered. "Or don't you remember?"

"Oh, my nose and I remember fondly, thank you."

"I see it healed nicely. Benefits of having a plastic surgeon for a father I assume?"

"Indeed."

"What exactly are you doing here, Tony? I thought you were still in LA?"

"No, I moved down here about 4 years ago. I heard you were auditioning here tonight and wanted to hear you perform."

"How'd you hear that?" Mike asked sounding very suspicious. "We didn't even know about it until yesterday."

"I know," Tony answered. He smiled very sinisterly now. "Lily told me on the way home from your house. I would have said hello then, but she didn't think it was a good idea for me to have come in yesterday." Realization dawned on Micky and he immediately tensed with fury, but the words tumbled out of Davy's mouth first.

"You're Lily's fiancé?" Davy asked.

"Indeed," Tony answered, never taking his eyes off Micky. "Been with her 4 years now. I don't normally take scraps, but she is truly beautiful." Micky lunged to punch Tony, but found himself restrained very quickly by three sets of hands. Tony and his friends took a step back and Tony laughed. "Good to see you haven't lost your fire, Micky."

"Let go of me," Micky whispered menacingly.

"Not until you calm down," Peter answered, who was now kneeling on the trunk of the car, towering above Micky and holding him by the shoulders. Mike and Davy stood on either side of Micky and each gripped one of his arms tightly.

"What is your problem, man?" Mike asked Tony. "You come here to purposely antagonize Micky?"

"No," Tony said flatly. "I came here to warn Micky."

"Warn him of what?" Davy asked.

"To stay away from Lily."

"What, are you afraid I'm going to tell her the real reason I broke your nose?" Micky spat. "I think I should. There's no way I'm going to let you do to her what you did to Sharon."

"Calm down, Micky," Tony now spoke menacingly, but Micky didn't care. "You're not going to tell her anything, because you are going to stay away from her."

"You can't make me."

"I think I can." Micky felt Davy and Mike suddenly let go of his arms before they both moved in front of him. They moved so quickly, Micky only saw the flash of the gun that Freddie had pulled out of his pocket. Micky didn't see him do even go for the gun, but obviously the other two had.

"Whoa, now," Mike said, now acting as a shield to Micky. Peter's grip had loosened on Micky's shoulders out of fear. Micky wanted to lunge forward again, but knew if he did, he'd pull Peter right off the car and didn't want him to get hurt. "I don't think there's any reason for that."

"You can put that away," Davy added. "No one's going to do anything stupid here."

"Just trying to make a point," Tony said. "Stay away from Lily, Micky. I have a good thing with her, and I'm not going to let you ruin it." With that, Tony and his friends walked away. Peter let go and Mike and Davy turned to face Micky. But Micky took this opportunity to try and chase after Tony. He only made it halfway across the parking lot, when his friends had grabbed him again.

"Micky, what are you doing?!" Mike asked breathless against Micky's efforts to break free of his friends.

"He has a gun!" Davy exclaimed. "It's suicide to chase after him!"

"I don't care!" Micky shouted. "I can't let him hurt her!"

"Ok, but if he shoots you, you can't exactly do anything to stop him," Peter tried reasoning with him. Micky knew he was right and stopped struggling. Cautiously, his friends let go of him.

"Let's go home and figure this out, okay?" Mike suggested. Micky nodded in defeat. The ride home was short and quiet. When they got back to the house, the four of them sat around the table in silence for a few minutes. Davy was the first one to speak up.

"Did you break that guy's nose or something?" Davy asked.

"Yeah," Micky answered. "I got pissed at him when I found out he was beating up his girlfriend, Sharon. Should have done more than just break his nose."

"So he's probably going to abuse Lily?" Peter asked.

"He probably already has," Mike sighed. "If they've been together four years. Abusers don't usually wait until after marriage to start."

"Well if he has, why hasn't she left him?" Davy asked. "Maybe he's changed."

"Davy, he pulled a gun on us," Mike pointed out. "I doubt very much that he's changed."

"Why marry a man who hurts you?"

"You'd be surprised," Peter mumbled.

"Tony can be very charming, Davy," Micky added. "He broke Sharon's arm and she still went to the prom with him. Even with her cast on. She wouldn't finally leave him until I convinced her to. My mom and I hid her in my basement for a week after he broke her leg. Just wish I could have convinced her to go to the cops, too. Then he'd be locked up and Rose would be safe."

"We need to talk to Rose," Peter said. "Find out exactly what's going on and try and convince her he's no good for her."

"That's easier said than done, Pete," Mike said. "First we have to find her."

"Well, we have her name and number," Davy said. "We can look her up. Mike, can I have her number?"

"Yeah," Mike answered before getting up to retrieve it. Davy got up and went to go get the address.

"How did you find out he was even beating Sharon up?" Peter asked.

"I saw it," Micky answered. "I had gone over to her house to help her fix her car. She wasn't there, so I just let myself into the garage with the key she gave me. I heard her and Tony come in to the kitchen next to the garage and he was shouting at her for something. I couldn't really hear what it was about, but I got up to try and calm him down. When I looked through the window of the kitchen I saw him pinning her against the wall with his hand around her neck. I pulled him off her and punched him in the face."

"That's awful," Mike said. Davy returned moments later with an address written on a sheet of paper.

"This is where she lives," Davy said. Micky looked at the address and memorized it.

"I'll go," Micky said. "I'll talk to her. She'll listen to me. I hope." He stood up, and turned to walk out the door, but Mike, Peter and Davy jumped up too.

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Micky," Mike said, coming around to face Micky.

"I don't care if he has a gun or not, Mike," Micky started. "I need to tell her the truth. I lied to her years ago because Sharon begged me to. It's my fault she's in that situation with him, and I have to fix it. Gun or not."

"That's not what I mean, Micky," Mike said. Micky stared at him.

"Then what do you mean?"

"I mean you shouldn't be the one to talk to her. Davy, Peter and I can do it. I don't…I don't think you should see her again, not just because Tony threatened you, but because I don't think it'll be good for you."

"Good for me?" Micky asked, now getting infuriated. Who did Mike think he was? It took Mike a few moments to answer, like he was searching for the right words.

"I think you have issues with this girl that you need to work out, and seeing her again is only going to make them worse."

"I don't have issues," Micky snapped. "I'm fine."

"So why did you say her name last night with Linda?" Micky fought a knee jerk reaction to punch Mike. "Look, Micky," Mike continued with a sigh, "I'm not trying to make you mad or anything. I'm just worried about you."

"There's nothing to worry about."

"I have to disagree. I think you should stay here and try and deal with these issues. All three of us are here to talk to you. None of us will judge you."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"You can't keep ignoring things, Micky," Mike snapped, now getting angry himself. "It's not healthy."

"Mind your own business, Mike," Micky snapped as he walked passed Mike with a small shove.

"Oh, that's right, Micky, walk away. Ignoring things worked so well for you last time." Micky froze halfway to the door. He couldn't believe Mike had just said that. He felt a rage he hadn't felt in years boil inside him. No one said anything for nearly 2 minutes. The silence was deafening.

"You really have no idea what you're talking about," Micky said through gritted teeth. It was true. Micky had never told any of them what had really happened the night they met. They all still thought he was going to go out and get drunk.

"I'm sorry, Micky," Mike said. "I'm just so angry that you aren't listening to us. We care about you and none of us want to see you get hurt again. What we went through 4 years ago was hard enough when we didn't know you. I don't think I can go through that again now that I do know you. I don't think any of us can go through that again."

"Us?" Micky whirled on him. "You're the only one I hear saying anything." He looked at Peter and Davy, who both looked a little frightened.

"I agree with Mike," Peter said a little softly, but strong enough for Micky to hear.

"So do I," Davy said, only a little more firmly than Peter. Micky knew he wasn't going to get anywhere with his friends. A little voice in his head told him they were right. He was still in love with her and seeing her again would probably stir up more problems like it had the day before. But his stubbornness refused to let him sit back and do nothing.

"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. He walked up the stairs and slammed the door to his room. He knew that they were only going to keep trying to stop him. He knew they were only trying to protect him. But his anger drove him to ignore the voice in his head telling him to lie down and listen to his friends. So he walked over to the window in his room and pushed it open. Looking down, the little voice in his head tried to yell at him to stop. But he still wasn't listening to it. It wasn't that far of a jump. He landed on his feet then rolled and felt a slight pain shoot through his ankle. Ignoring the pain, he got up and walked over to one of the little motor bikes the four had for recreation on the beach.

(Break)

Peter stood there in shock. He couldn't believe the fight he just witnessed between two of his best friends. He jumped when Micky slammed his bedroom door. The three of them stood there in silence for a few moments. Davy sank into the chair with a loud sigh.

"Now what?" he asked.

"Now we figure out what we are going to say to Lily, or Rose, or whatever," Mike said, as he too sat down with an equally loud sigh.

"What's wrong with the truth?" Davy asked.

"Nothing," Peter said taking the third seat, "but we can't just go in there and say 'you're fiancé is a wife beater, you need to leave him.' We have to think of a way to say it that won't freak her out."

"Well, if we're right, he's probably already abused her," Mike said, rubbing his temples. "I'm thinking we just ask her outright if he's done anything."

"If she's stayed this long, she's not going to admit it to us," Peter said. He knew how difficult a situation like this could be. He knew how much denial was involved from the women being brutalized. His mother's best friend had been in a similar situation when he was a teenager.

"So we tell her that we know the truth. We tell her about Sharon as gently as possible. Apparently she knows about Micky breaking Tony's nose, but not the real reason behind it."

"And what if she doesn't believe us?" Davy asked.

"If he's ever abused her, she'll believe us." Peter said. "She just may also believe that he's changed. Or that she can change him."

"You seem to know a little about this."

"I do. Back in high school, my mom spent countless nights awake on the phone with one of her best friends. Mom was trying to convince her to leave her husband. Some nights she'd call mom with just a black eye; other nights it'd be worse."

"What did your mom do?" Mike asked.

"At first, she pushed her. Constantly. But it only pushed her away. She didn't speak to my mother until one night when her husband shattered her wrist. Her husband had her convinced that she deserved everything she got by then. In the beginning she thought she could change him. That he would stop. He always apologized to her. To use Micky's words, he charmed her. Trying to convince Lily Rose to leave is going to be very hard."

"Alright, we should go," Mike said pushing himself up from the table and grabbing the address Davy had retrieved.

"I'll tell Micky we're leaving," Peter said walking towards the staircase. "Might ease his mind a little." Mike nodded. When Peter got up to Micky's room he knocked softly. There was no response. "Micky?" Peter called through the door, but there was still no response. Peter got a sinking feeling in his stomach. He knew he might regret it if Micky threw something at him, but he opened the door. Micky was nowhere to be seen however, and Peter slowly entered. He realized the window was open and crossed over to it peering down below. Peter saw only three of the four motor bikes they had sitting below them. Fearing the reaction he might get, he walked down into the living room where Mike and Davy waited for him by the door.

"What's going on?" Mike asked.

"He uhhh…" Peter started. "It looks like he jumped out the window and rode off with one of the motor bikes."

"What?!" Mike's face flashed red with anger.

"After all that he left anyway?" Davy asked flabbergasted. Peter was about to say something when Mike punched his fist through the wall. Davy and Peter both jumped at the sudden burst of rage. Neither of them had seen Mike this angry before.

"Damn him!" Mike spat out. "Come on, let's see if we can at least head him off." The three of them quickly jumped into the car and drove off, looking for Micky the whole way there.


	7. Complications

Secrets of a Monkee

Summary: Micky meets his best friends during his darkest hour. Years later, his past comes back to haunt him. Can his friends help pull him back again?

Author's note: none….just let me know what you think!

Chapter 7: Complications

Micky turned off the engine of the motor bike when he pulled up to a large two story house that belonged to Rose. He checked the driveway and didn't see a car in it, but that didn't mean there wasn't one in the garage. He really hoped that Rose was home. And that she was alone. He wasn't quite sure what he would do if Tony were here. Resolute, he got off the bike and took a step to walk to the door. As soon as he had put his weight on his right ankle, though, pain shot through his leg. He figured he must have sprained it a little when he jumped out of the window, and limped his way up to the door. It took Rose about a minute to answer the door after he'd knocked. She looked very pale to Micky, but that may have been because of the yellow dress she was wearing. When she saw him standing in the doorway, her face darkened a little.

"Micky, what are you doing here?" she asked, a slight hint of anger in her voice. "How did you even find me?"

"From the number you gave Mike," Micky answered her second question first. "And I came here to talk to you. Is Tony here?" Her face paled a little more.

"How did you find out about that?"

"We had a little encounter a little while ago. Is he here?"

"No." Micky didn't wait for her to say anything else; he pushed past her into the house, ignoring the pain in his ankle and shifting most of his weight to the other one. "What do you think you're doing? I didn't say you could come in!"

"I am going to ask you a question and you need to answer me truthfully," Micky said ignoring her. She just stared at him, the door still open behind her.

"What?" She finally asked.

"Has he ever hurt you?"

"What are you talking about?" But her voice lowered ever so slightly, which meant she did know what he was talking about, but was trying to lie.

"Tony. Has he ever raised a hand against you?" Micky repeated, a little more forcefully.

"Why would you ask me something like that?"

"Answer the question."

"I don't even know where you'd get an idea like that."

"Answer the question." This time Micky spoke very forcefully. She was trying to avoid the answer.

"It's none of your business."

"So he has," Micky knew what the avoidance meant. His heart sank.

"What do you want, Micky?" She was angry now. "You want to come in and be my knight in shining armor or something? I was under the impression you didn't care. Tony loves me. That's all that matters. He was there for me during one of the worst times in my life. A moment you chose to abandon me."

"I never abandoned you," Micky snapped back. "You dumped me, remember?! I fought tooth and nail for you. Tried to tell you that you were being lied to."

"That's not what I mean and you know it."

"Actually, I don't."

"Leave, Micky. Before I call the cops." She threw her arm up and pointed out the still open door for emphasis. That's when Micky saw it. Her sleeve moved up on her arm revealing one small round bruise on the inside of her arm and four smaller ones even spaced on the outside of her arm. He knew all too well how she got them.

"Go ahead," he said softly, "and while you're at it, tell them how you got those bruises." Rose looked at him with a mixture of horror and pain and quickly dropped her arm, hiding the bruises under her sleeve again. "Those weren't there yesterday." Micky said, moving closer to her. "Did he do that after you talked to me? Jealous that you saw me and grabbed you?"

"What makes you think he gave me these bruises?" But she wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Because he pulled a gun on me and my friends today, threatening me to stay away from you. That's what our little encounter was. And because I saw the same ones on Sharon. That's how I know what he's capable of. I saw him nearly strangle Sharon. That's the real reason I broke his nose."

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not. Remember her broken arm and leg? Those were a gift from Tony."

"She said she fell down a flight of stairs."

"On two separate occasions within a span of 6 months? No one is that unlucky, Rose. Tell me, have you ever used that excuse? Or the' walked-into-a-door' excuse? I don't understand why you're doing this. I thought you were stronger than this." Micky grabbed her chin in his hand and tried to get her to look into his eyes. When he saw the tears in them, his heart sank even lower.

"I told you, Micky. He was there for me. You weren't. You don't get to change your mind now. It's…" her voice trailed off as she gasped in pain. She doubled over and clutched her stomach.

"Rose!" Micky tried to help keep her from falling to the ground, frightened now and not knowing why she was in pain. "What's wrong?"

"Oh no," Rose whispered. Her voice was very weak. "This can't be happening again. It…just…can't…." Rose fell against Micky who tried to support her, but his ankle gave way with the extra weight. Pain shot through his whole leg and Micky cried out in pain as they both tumbled to the floor. Rose lay on top of his chest and Micky tried to get up, but he couldn't put any weight on his ankle anymore. He only managed to sit himself up with Rose's head in his lap and his back against the coffee table he narrowly missed hitting when they fell. Moving her hair out of her face, he realized she was even paler and her eyes were closed. She had passed out. Micky knew he had to get her to the hospital, but didn't know how as he couldn't get up and didn't know where a phone was in her house.

It was then he heard a car pull up in front of the house. Terror gripped him as he thought that perhaps Tony was coming home. He quickly tried to think of a way to defend himself and Rose, but came up short. Relief washed over him however as he saw Peter, Davy and Mike walk through the open front door. Mike looked extremely angry when he first walked in, but as soon as he realized Rose was unconscious, the anger disappeared slightly from his features. Peter and Davy both knelt down beside Micky and Rose.

"What happened?" Davy asked, feeling Rose's forehead. "She's very clammy."

"I don't know," Micky answered. "We were just talking and the next thing I know, she's crying out in pain and passes out."

"She needs a doctor," Peter said.

"Yeah, but I can't really get up. When she fell, I fell too. My ankle hurts too much to stand on it."

"Serves you right for jumping out a window," Mike said, clearly still a little angry.

"Can we not deal with that now?" Peter said before an argument could start. "She needs the hospital. Now. Look." Peter pointed to a few spots of blood on the floor where Rose had been standing. Micky suddenly felt a wave of fear induced nausea flood over him. "Davy, Mike, carry her out to the car. I'll help Micky." No one argued as they did what Peter told them.

"Davy, the bike," Peter said once they got Rose into the car. "Follow us to the hospital so that Tony won't know we were here." Davy nodded and Micky tossed him the keys. Peter helped Micky get into the car himself, but Micky's ankle accidentally bumped against the door and he cried out in pain again. All three of his friends froze and stared at him, now fearing for both Micky and Rose.

"I'm fine," Micky said cutting off an apology from Peter. "Let's just go." Mike jumped into the driver's seat and Peter jumped in back with Micky. Rose lay in the back seat, a heavy blanket under her. The color seemed to be leaving her face with each passing minute and there was a little more blood on the blanket, but Micky couldn't tell where it was coming from. "Hurry, Mike," Micky said once the car was started. Rose's words haunted him the whole drive to the hospital. Why had she thought he abandoned her? And what was wrong with her? Whatever it was had apparently happened before. Had that been the hard times that Tony had seen her through? When she thought Micky had abandoned her?

Within minutes they had pulled into the hospital parking lot. Ignoring the road signs, Mike drove into the ambulance only area and leapt out of the car without even turning it off before running through the doors and inside. Moments later he re-emerged with a doctor and two nurses behind him wheeling a stretcher and a wheelchair with them. The doctor and one of the nurses gently put Rose on the stretcher and wheeled her inside while Peter and the second nurse helped Micky into the wheelchair. Mike leapt back into the car to go park it legally and Peter followed the nurse inside with Micky. He could hear the commotion surrounding Rose and desperately wanted to be there with her.

"Is she going to be ok?" Micky asked, staring off in her direction.

"It's too early to tell, sweetie," the nurse said trying to soothe him. "But we will do everything we can. I need you to tell me exactly what happened, though."

"I don't really know. We were talking and she cried out in pain and collapsed."

"Did she say anything or do anything?"

"She grabbed her stomach and she said something about how this couldn't be happening again."

"Do you know what she meant by that?"

"No, but her fiancé is an abuser." Micky didn't know why he felt the need to say this, but he did. He wanted to make it clear in case it was Tony's fault. "His name is Tony DeWitt. He nearly choked an old girlfriend. And he broke her leg and arm. I don't know what he's done to Rose, but she has a bruise on her arm in the shape of a hand, like he grabbed her."

"Ok, we'll look into that." The nurse walked over to a doctor who was running their way and said something to him Micky couldn't hear. He nodded and ran over to where the other doctor and nurses were working on Rose. She came back over to Micky and Peter the same time Mike and Davy ran up to them as well. She looked at Davy questioningly.

"He's family, too," Mike said. "He followed us here." The nurse looked at them skeptically but didn't say anything. She grabbed the chair Micky sat in and wheeled him into a private room nearby with his friends. Micky couldn't hear the sounds of the doctors working on Rose anymore. He felt tears sting his eyes as he was gripped by worry. He didn't care about his ankle. He needed to be with her. Even if she didn't want him. The thought that she felt he abandoned her was almost too much for Micky.

"I know you want to be with your friend right now," the nurse said to him, reading his face like a book. "But if we are going to help her, I need to get as much information from you and your friends as possible. Can you do that, sweetie?" Micky could tell she was trying to use the term of endearment to ease his worry, but it wasn't working. Micky nodded. "Ok, you said her name is Rose Lily Larson?" she asked in Mike's direction, now writing on a clipboard. Mike nodded. "Does she have family in the area? Other than her fiancé?" She asked the whole room now.

"I think her father is in town for the wedding," Mike offered. "I don't know where to find or contact him, though."

"Ok. Did you notice anything unusual about her while you were talking?"

"She looked pale," Micky said.

"How old is she?"

"21."

"What's her birthday?"

"October 4th."

"Do you know her blood type in case we need a transfusion?"

"O positive." Micky saw his three friends stare down at him in amazement.

"You know her blood type?" Davy asked. "We don't even know yours!"

"I've known her a lot longer than I've known you."

"How long have you known her?" the nurse asked.

"Since kindergarten."

"Does she have any medical problems?"

"Not that I know of. I haven't talked to her in four years."

"So you don't know if she developed anything in the last four years?"

"No. She's not exactly happy with me. I only went to talk to her because I found out she was engaged to that slimy toad and was worried about her safety."

"Ok, I'll be right back," the nurse said as she left the room.

"Micky," Mike started.

"Don't start with me, Mike," Micky snapped.

"I was only going to ask what you were thinking in jumping out a window," Mike snapped back.

"Guys," Peter stood up inserting himself between Mike and Micky acting as referee. "We're worried about both of you. You clearly did something to your ankle, and Rose is in really bad shape. No one is going to start an argument. Not here. Got that Mike? Micky?" Both nodded in agreement and temporary truce. The nurse came back very quickly with a third doctor.

"Alright, this is Dr. Hartman," the nurse introduced. "He'll be taking care of you."

"What about Rose?" Micky asked.

"There are other doctors seeing to her," Dr. Hartman responded gently. "She's got two of our best doctors taking care of her. She's in excellent hands." He paused for a moment to allow this to sink in. Micky still wanted to be with her. "Now let's take care of that ankle. What is your full name?"

"George Michael Dolenz Jr." Micky responded.

"How old are you?"

"21."

"Alright, tell me what happened."

"He jumped out a window," Mike said before Micky could respond. Micky glared at him, but Peter jumped up and started whispering to Mike.

"What did you do that for?" the doctor asked, ignoring this little interaction.

"They wouldn't let me leave," Micky sneered.

"Don't blame this on us!" Mike burst. Davy jumped up and grabbed Mike by the collar to pull him out of the room. In any other situation, Micky would have laughed at seeing his shortest friend dragging the tallest by the collar.

"Brotherly love," Peter suggested when the doctor and the nurse both got worried expressions on their faces. "You know how brothers bicker sometimes." Peter tried to laugh it off.

"Ok, Mr. Dolenz, what happened when you jumped out the window?" the doctor asked, turning back to Micky.

"I think I landed on my ankle wrong," Micky answered. "I felt a small pain, but it wasn't that bad at first. I rode a motor bike over to Rose's house to talk to her. It hurt, but I could limp on it and stand with most of my weight on the other leg. But then when she passed out, I tried to catch her so she didn't fall down. I had to put more weight on my ankle and I felt more pain and then couldn't stand anymore. We both fell and I couldn't get back up."

"Let's take a look." The nurse and Peter helped load Micky into the bed so the doctor could examine him better. The doctor took Micky's boots off carefully, but Micky's ankle was swollen inside them, making the task difficult and painful. Micky screamed in pain eliciting a startled jump from Peter. Peter pulled a chair up next to the bed so he could sit in it and hold Micky's hand tightly in both of his. Micky knew Peter was trying to silently tell him that he was there for him.

Once they had gotten Micky's boot and sock off, Micky could now see exactly how bad his ankle looked. It looked like a baseball was sitting just under his skin. The doctor looked at it carefully. He pushed his fingers against Micky's shin asking him if it hurt. Micky shook his head no. The doctor carefully touched the ankle and once again, Micky screamed in pain.

"Ok, let's get a few tests here," the doctor said. "Doesn't look like its broken, but there could be some torn ligaments in there." The next few hours were excruciating for Micky. Not because of the pain in his ankle because the doctor had given him a powerful pain killer, but because he didn't know what was going on with Rose. Davy and Mike had returned shortly after the doctor left and Mike had sat in silence in a chair in the corner since. Peter was trying to keep Micky's mind off things by telling funny stories, which Davy tried to laugh at, but Micky could tell both their laughs were forced. When the doctor finally came back in, Micky pushed himself up.

"How's Rose?" He asked, hopeful the doctor would have good news.

"She's fine," the doctor answered. "It's lucky you brought her when you did. She lost a lot of blood, but she'll be fine now." Micky breathed a sigh of relief.

"What was wrong with her?" He asked. The doctor and the nurse exchanged looks as if deciding whether or not to tell him.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Dolenz, you aren't family and I'm afraid I can't go into too much detail because of that. What I can tell you is that she is looking to make a swift recovery."

"What do you mean?" Micky couldn't believe he was going to be kept in the dark about this. "I'm as good as family! I've known her since we were toddlers!"

"Didn't you say you hadn't spoken to her in 4 years?" the nurse asked. "And that she was mad at you?"

"Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean I don't care about her!"

"Be that as it may, we have laws we have to abide by," the doctor stated. "Her issue is a very sensitive one and I can't go into detail with anyone other than family."

"Is her family here?" Davy asked.

"We couldn't get a hold of the father, but the fiancé stopped by," the doctor answered. All four men exchanged worried looks. "Don't worry, boys. We did see the bruises on her and based on what you told us, the police took him for questioning, but they probably won't be able to do much without her statement or a witness."

"We understand," Mike said, standing up now. "What about Micky? What's wrong with his ankle?"

"It's not broken, but you did tear a ligament in it. It was probably sprained from the landing, and you snapped it when you tried to catch Rose. It can be treated very easily. We're going to give you what we call a 'boot' to wear for a few weeks while it heals. And some crutches. No standing at all for the first few days. Plenty of ice. And after that, if you have to stand, don't do it for very long."

"Thank you, Dr. Hartman," Mike said and the doctor and nurse both left. Micky was fuming. Where the doctors really going to let Rose go home to Tony? And it killed him not knowing what was wrong with her. And Mike had ended any and all other protests they could have over the issue. Mike really wasn't regaining any points in the not making Micky angry category.

"Mike, we _don't_ understand," Peter started. "They're going to let her go home with that man even though he very well could have been the one to put her here!"

"We don't know that," Mike said. He raised his hand to stop any further protests. "We don't even know what's wrong with her. It could be a very normal problem. If they had any reason to suspect that he did this to her, I don't think they'd send her home."

"They would if they couldn't prove it," Micky argued. "I need to find out what happened." Micky started to sit up, but was pushed back down by Davy and Peter.

"And how do you plan on doing that?" Davy asked. "You're not leaving this bed. You can't walk."

"Yeah, the doctor said no standing," Peter added.

"I can't just sit here!" Micky exclaimed. He felt as though his frustration would overflow at any moment and no one around him would be safe.

"Just calm down, Micky," Mike said taking off his hat and running his fingers through his hair. "Look, I'm sorry for being angry before and the things I said. I got really mad when Peter saw you'd jumped out the window because I knew that all you were doing was hurting yourself. I wanted to try and save you from yourself. Then when I saw you had physically hurt yourself doing exactly what we told you would hurt you, I got mad again. But I was also worried and scared because I care about you and it kills me to see you in any kind of pain. You have to know that. When Davy and I heard you screaming in here while the doc was examining you, we both nearly had heart attacks right there. I can't protect you from pain when you go jumping out windows and running into the fire. You're my brother, Micky. And it's my job to protect you. To look out for you and make sure you're ok. And seeing you here in this hospital bed right now tells me I've failed at that. Hearing you scream in pain is like someone screaming in my head that I'm a failure. There are three of us here trying so hard to look out for you, to protect you and keep you safe, and you don't seem to care about that. That's why I'm angry. So for once, can you just sit and relax and let us deal with this?" Micky felt his anger ebb away a little bit only to be replaced by guilt.

"I do care about what you guys do for me," Micky answered. "And don't feel like you've failed me. You all have honestly done more than any of you even know to keep me safe." Micky couldn't look into their faces, but knew they were confused by this statement. Micky still refused to tell them that they had saved his life in more ways than one. Especially now. "Do you have some sort of plan, Mike?"

"Yes, but I'm not going to tell you," Mike answered. "Because you need to rest. It's late. Nearly 3 in the morning. Try and get some sleep before the doctor comes back. Peter, can you stay here with him? Davy, come with me." With that Mike and Davy exited the room. Micky had no idea what they were doing, but finally decided to listen to the voice in his head that was telling him he needed to listen to Mike and rest. There was nothing he could do with a busted foot anyway.


	8. Healing

Secrets of a Monkee

Summary: Micky meets his best friends during his darkest hour. Years later, his past comes back to haunt him. Can his friends help pull him back again?

Author's note: sorry, in the last chapter I mixed up Rose's name and said her name was Rose Lily Larson, but it's Lily Rose. I know it's kinda confusing with her being called Lily at times and Rose at times, I even confused myself when typing the last chapter! Lol! and yes, i heard micky say once that he plays drums left footed and right handed and he really doesn't know why. thought it was funny.

thanks to plushchrome for telling me how to do the line!

Chapter 8: Healing

Mike closed the door behind him, leaving Micky and Peter alone. His stomach was a mess. He was still angry, but he was also extremely worried for both Micky and Rose. He knew Micky would be ok, and that his injury wasn't as serious as it could have been, but he also knew Micky's emotional turmoil was only just beginning. It had seemed as though there was something Micky was holding back. Something he wanted to tell them, but couldn't. What did that comment about them doing more than they knew to keep Micky safe mean? Mike would have to make sure that Micky told them later. For now, they had to focus on Rose. Mike had to make sure that Rose was going to be safe when they released her from here.

"So, what _is_ you plan?" Davy asked.

"Simple," Mike replied. "We go see Rose and talk to her. I'm going to see if I can't get her to tell me what's going on."

"Oh," Davy answered, sounding slightly disappointed. Mike figured it was because Micky's plans usually involved some sort of goofy disguise and over the top antics. And about 9 times out of 10, it was Micky who came up with the plan because somehow they always worked. Mike was never sure why, because the disguises were sometimes very terrible. Davy followed Mike to the nearest nurses' station. When they arrived, a beautiful blonde woman looked up at them.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Yes, we brought a friend here and wanted to see her," Mike answered. "Her name is Lily Rose Larson."

"Sure, follow me," the nurse stood up and led them down a hallway and into another section of the hospital. When they reached a large room, she stopped. "She woke up an hour ago, but she's on a lot of medication, so she may not completely coherent. I'm afraid I can only allow one visitor at a time, so as not to overstress her."

"Not a problem," Mike answered. "Davy, can you wait out here for a few moments?"

"Yeah," Davy answered, allowing Mike to take the reins on this one. The nurse nodded and opened the door.

"Miss Larson, you have a visitor," she announced before Mike entered. She closed the door behind her, leaving Davy out in the hallway.

"Mike?" Rose asked. She sounded incredibly weak. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to make sure you were ok," Mike answered as he pulled a chair up next to her bed to sit down in. "You gave us all quite a scare, you know."

"I'm fine," she responded, but only half-heartedly. He could tell she'd been fighting back tears.

"You don't look it," Mike answered. He kept his voice very low and soft to make her feel less threatened. "We haven't had a chance to talk to the doctor yet to find out what happened." Mike hated lying, but he would if the situation called for it.

"I'm fine," she said again.

"Rose, we, Micky and the rest of us, are all worried about you. You passed out in Micky's arms. You don't know how terrified that made him."

"Micky gave up any right he had to worry about me a long time ago," she scoffed.

"Well, that's not a very nice thing to say." It was very difficult to keep his voice soft after a comment like that. "Micky is very worried about you. Do you know he snapped a tendon in his ankle by jumping out a window just to make sure you're fiancé wasn't beating you?"

"Why did he jump out a window?"

"Because I told him it wasn't a good idea to see you again." Mike took a deep breath, trying to decide how much detail he should go into. He could see the question in her eyes and decided this may be the only way to get answers and to convince her not to go home with Tony. "You see, Micky still loves you. When he was with his girlfriend last night, he said your name instead of hers. He never got over you."

"He still loves me?"

"Yeah. Everything that has happened is tearing him apart. When we met him, he was a wreck. He was drowning his sorrows in whatever bottle he could find, which got him thrown out of his home and unemployed. We took him in and nursed his hangover, but it was much harder to heal him emotionally. He had given up on his music and didn't start again until he needed to bail us out."

"He gave up on music?"

"Yeah. No writing songs, no singing, no guitar, no drums."

"That doesn't make sense." Rose seemed lost in thought. She wasn't really speaking to Mike anymore. "Tony said…" she trailed off, however, suddenly remembering Mike was there.

"Tony said what?" Mike prompted, but she ignored him.

"Micky really cares about what happens to me?"

"Of course he does! Why would he go through so much effort and pain to make sure Tony wasn't abusing you if he didn't care about you?"

"I didn't know if that was because he was just angry that I was even with Tony. They were best friends for years."

"So I heard. But I also saw the gun his little friend pulled on us warning us to stay away from you. Micky nearly let himself get shot trying to go after Tony because he didn't want Tony to hurt you." Rose looked at him and slowly lifted her hand to wipe away a small tear. Mike noticed a small bruising pattern on her arm, and took her hand in his. He moved her sleeve up to inspect it and saw a handprint shaped bruise on her arm. He felt like someone kicked him in the stomach. This must be the bruise the doctor was talking about. "Micky wants you safe more than anything else. And so do the rest of us. We all want you to tell everyone what Tony is doing to you."

"You mean tell the police?" Her eyes were filling with tears again.

"Yes. Why are you trying to protect him? You deserve better than this."

"You don't know me."

"I don't have to. No one deserves this." She smiled when he said this. He reached up and wiped more tears away from her eyes. "Please, Rose. Don't put yourself through this. There's nothing tying you to him."

"No." Rose's voice was so soft, Mike almost didn't hear her. "Not anymore. I'll tell the police, Mike. He did this to me. And Micky told me the truth. Tony's done this before. To other girls. And…" she trailed off, as if she didn't have the energy to continue.

"It's ok," Mike comforted. "You can talk to me."

"I was only marrying him because my family wanted me to."

"I'm sure if they knew what he was doing to you, they'd support you in leaving."

"They would. But they wanted me to marry him because that's what you do when you get…pregnant." Mike's heart sank with the realization of what happened.

"You're pregnant?"

"I was. Until yesterday." More tears spilled out of her eyes. "I told Tony that I talked to Micky. That the house he drove me to was Micky's. He got really angry and dragged me out of the car when we got home. I fought against him and he threw me to the ground and kicked me. The doctors said that I lost the baby because of a blow to the stomach that caused my uterus to fill with blood." Mike closed his eyes in anguish. "He apologized later to me. Said he was just so angry for going to Micky after everything Micky had done to me." Mike wanted to argue with her and tell her that there was no way Micky would ever do anything to hurt her; that Micky would never cheat on anyone as she thought he had, but he knew it wasn't the time right now.

"It's going to be okay," Mike assured her instead. "Tell the police what happened and he'll go to jail."

"I will, but I can't go home now. I have nowhere to go. The house is his mothers. There's no way she'll let me go back there."

"What about your family? I thought your father was here?"

"No, he only came down for the audition. And I can't go home with him. I have school and my job…" she wiped more tears from her eyes. "But I can't go back to Tony. He killed my baby."

"Come home with us," Mike said, the words leaving his mouth faster than he could think about them. He knew it was a bad idea with how Micky felt about her, but somehow he also knew that it was the right thing to do. And perhaps the two of them could work things out and at least become friends again. After all, Micky had said they'd known each other since kindergarten. It seemed a shame they were so at odds with each other now.

"I couldn't do that," she said, looking into his eyes.

"Sure you can. Tony has some friends that are pretty dangerous, and we can't guarantee that Tony isn't going to make bail and come after you or send his friends after you. We can protect you until we are sure that Tony can't get to you anymore."

"What about Micky? Didn't you just say you didn't think it was a good idea for him to see me again?"

"Well, sure, but I think he'll agree with me on this. Your safety and well-being comes first. And I may have been wrong about him not seeing you. It may actually be what he needs." She thought about this for a while. Mike stood to get some tissues from the counter before wiping her eyes again. A soft knock came at the door and the nurse opened the door when Rose told her it was ok to enter. There were two men in suits behind the nurse standing and looking slightly solemn.

"Miss Larson," the nurse said. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but there are two detectives here to see you. Are you feeling up to talking with them?" Rose looked at Mike before she answered.

"Yes," Rose answered. The nurse nodded and stepped to the side before the two detectives entered.

"I'm going to check back with Micky," Mike said. When he was at the door, Rose called out to him.

"Mike, I will take you up on your offer. If it's not too much trouble."

"None at all," Mike smiled back. "I can get a few of your things packed up from your house if you like. You can get the rest later when you've healed up."

"It's not my house, remember? But if you can manage without getting into a fight with Tony's mother, that would be nice."

"We can arrange for a uniformed officer to accompany the young man if you like," one of the detectives said. Mike figured he already knew a good deal of what was going on.

"Yes," Rose answered. One of the detectives got up and led Mike from the room where Davy was still waiting in the hallway.

"Are you going to take care of her once she's discharged?" the detective asked.

"Yes," Mike answered. "She said that she doesn't want to go home to her fiancé and because the house they currently reside in belongs to his mother, she doesn't have a place in town where she can stay. I offered to let her stay with us until everything is settled."

"Did she tell you Tony did this to her?"

"Yes. He's been abusing her for years and she's finally ready to talk about it and get away."

"Well, Tony is being held until we can get her statement right now. If she tells us that she wants to press charges, we will charge him, but I can't guarantee he won't make bail. I'm not going to sugar coat this for you; if she is going to stay with you, keep in mind that he may come after her."

"All the more reason to let her stay with us. Her being alone puts her at bigger risk. He has friends out there, too. Wouldn't put it past them to try and get to her."

"Very well. Fill out this card and I'll arrange for an office to meet with you in a few hours to get her things from her house." Mike took the card and pen from the detective and filled out his name, address, phone number and other information he assumed would go into the case file.

"My friend is still here," he said as he handed the card back to the detective. "His name is Micky Dolenz. I'm going to stay here with him. That's where you'll find me when the officer is ready." The detective nodded his understanding and ducked into the room with his partner. Mike turned to look at Davy who had a somewhat quizzical look on his face.

"Are you sure it's a good idea for her and Micky to be under one roof right now?" Davy asked.

"I'm not sure," Mike answered as he started walking back to Micky's room with Davy in tow. "But what I am sure of is she needs a place to stay where she's safe from Tony."

"So she told you what happened?"

"Yes," Mike answered, but he knew he couldn't tell Davy what had truly happened to her. He didn't want Micky to know about the baby just yet. And mostly, he didn't want Micky to know that Tony had killed the baby. He knew what Micky would do, and knew that it would more than likely get Micky either killed or thrown in jail. He didn't want to tell Davy or Peter because he didn't want them to undergo the pressure of keeping this secret from Micky. Mike would wait until Rose could tell Micky herself. It was better if he heard it from Rose anyway.

"Are you going to tell me?" Davy asked when they reached Micky's room. Mike didn't realize he'd fallen so silent and that Davy was waiting for him to continue. Peter walked out of Micky's room upon seeing them approach.

"Micky just fell asleep," Peter said. "Did you find anything out?" Mike sighed, knowing he had to choose his words very carefully.

"Yes, but I don't want Micky to know just yet," Mike answered.

"Why not?" Davy asked.

"Because if I tell him, he's going to be devastated, then he's going to get extremely angry and do something stupid."

"Micky's not going to just let this go, you know," Peter said. "He told me that he feels guilty about all this. He said that she told him he abandoned her and that he's afraid this happened before and she resents him for not being there."

"Why does he think that?" Mike asked, his interest suddenly perked again. What did Micky mean this happened before?

"Well she told him. I guess right before she passed out she said 'This can't be happening again' or something like that. And she told him that he'd abandoned her when she really needed him in the past. He doesn't understand what she meant by that, because when he told her that she's the one who broke up with him, she said 'That's not what I mean.'" Mike's throat went dry. Rose had said this had happened before. She'd had a miscarriage before? Had it been Tony's baby? Or Micky's? Mike stared at his sleeping friend through a crack in the curtains covering the window to the room and thought he already knew the answer. He knew that Micky couldn't have known about it, though. Even though Rose thought he abandoned her, something must have happened to keep Micky from her; he knew there was no way Micky would abandon someone going through something like that. Especially Rose. Mike thought he had an idea of what, or who, that was. Now he knew more than ever that he couldn't tell Micky what was going on. Mike wanted to throw up.

"Oh God," Mike breathed.

"What?" Davy and Peter asked in unison.

"Nothing," Mike said, still staring at Micky. "I can't tell you guys what happened, because I don't want you to shoulder that. I'll make sure Rose tells Micky later, but right now he can't take it."

"Rose is coming to stay with us," Davy told Peter. "Mike convinced her to tell the cops what happened. Tony _is_ the reason she's here, I guess. But Mike and the cops think that Tony might come after Rose if he makes bail. I'm not so sure that's good for Micky, though."

"Maybe not," Peter agreed, "but she needs to be with friends right now. And if we can protect her, we should. But what are you going to say to Micky?" Mike tore his eyes away from his sleeping friend to look at Peter.

"I don't know," Mike answered honestly.

"You can't lie to him," Davy said. "It's not right."

"I might have to," Mike sighed. "I don't like it any more than you do, Davy, but I can't tell Micky what happened. I'll tell him that she's telling the police what Tony's done and that we are going to watch over her until things settle down in order to keep her safe, but I am going to have to lie to him and tell him I don't know why she's sick. I simply can't tell him the truth right now. If I do, he'll have a breakdown and end up either getting himself killed or thrown in prison." Both of them looked at each other, then at Mike with submission.

The three spent the next hour sitting around Micky as he slept. Mike felt very sleepy, but he was too upset and worried to sleep. Peter started to nod off at one point, but woke up soon after that. Davy had taken to pacing to keep himself awake, which normally would have annoyed Mike if his mind had not been racing. He wanted to talk to Rose again, but knew he was going to have to wait for the officer the police were sending to help him gather Rose's belongings. When the officer finally showed up, Micky was still asleep. Mike and Davy once again left Peter alone with Micky, promising to return shortly.

* * *

Micky heard someone call his name. He recognized it as Peter. Peter was also nudging him a little and was asking him to wake up. Micky opened his eyes to see Peter standing there smiling. The nurse and doctor from earlier were in his room, also looking at him.

"Sorry to wake you, Mr. Dolenz," the doctor said when he realized Micky was now awake. "But we wanted to get this boot on you and talk to you about your discharge."

"I'm going home?" Micky grumbled a little, still very tired.

"Once we take care of this, you are," the nurse replied with a smile.

"What about Rose?" Micky asked.

"She's going to stay here for another few hours," Peter answered. "But Mike is going to stay here with her and bring her back to the pad when they discharge her."

"What?" Micky asked, now thoroughly confused. Hadn't Mike been so adamant about Micky staying _away_ from rose? Why was he now suddenly taking her home with them?

"Well, she told the police about Tony thanks to whatever you and Mike told her. But it seems that the house she lived in actually belongs to Tony's mother, so she can't exactly go back there while they process Tony. And the police can't exactly guarantee he won't bail himself out once they do process him, so Mike figured it was the right thing to do in order to keep her safe. He figured you wouldn't have any objection, and he thinks maybe you guys can work out whatever issues you have."

"No," Micky said, surprised but pleased. "No objections. Where is Mike? And Davy?"

"They went to go get a few things from Rose's house with a police officer. They should be back soon."

"While we wait for them to return, we should get you fixed up with these crutches and boot," the doctor said, trying to pull them away from their conversation.

"Sorry, doctor," Peter said sheepishly.

"That's quite alright, young man." The doctor's smile was very warm. He took something out of a sealed bag that appeared to be an oversized sandal, but its bottom was solid. The doctor set the boot next to Micky's leg and pulled out a few ace bandages. "Alright, pay attention to how I do this, because it is very important. If it's too tight, you will restrict the blood flow; too loose, and it won't do you any good." The doctor took Micky's ankle and began to wrap it, starting from the heel of his foot. Peter and Micky both watched as he finished wrapping the foot and pinning the bandage. "Don't take this boot off unless you have to shower." The doctor put the weird looking shoe on Micky's foot now.

"Well, the bright side is this is your right ankle," Peter laughed. "You play with your left foot for some reason, so you can still play drums."

"Not at first," the doctor said. "If he plays left footed, he can start playing again in about a week when he can move around, but as long as he still wears this boot on his foot and uses the crutches to move. Agreed?" Peter and Micky both nodded their agreement, although Micky hadn't gone more than a couple days without playing his music in four years and he knew going a week was going to be hard. "Alright Mr. Dolenz, let's stand you up and get these crutches adjusted to your height." The doctor and nurse helped Micky stand and it only took a few minutes to adjust the crutches and show Micky how to walk around in them properly. The doctor then gave Micky a prescription for pain killers and anti-inflammatory medications to take home as well as telling him how often to ice his ankle and to keep it propped up when he could. As the doctor left the room to get Micky's discharge papers, Davy and Mike walked back into the room.

"Hey," Mike said when he walked in. Micky smiled at his friend, but soon noticed that Mike's eyes seemed haunted. "What's the matter?"

"Huh?" Mike asked, a little confused. "Nothing. Why do you think something's wrong?"

"Nothing," Micky answered dropping it, not wanting to start another argument with Mike. "Never mind. Peter said that Rose talked to the cops and she's coming home with us. Did she tell you what happened to her?"

"No," Mike replied quickly. Almost a little too quickly for Micky's liking. Mike took his hat off and ran his fingers through his hair again. Mike was a bad liar. "She didn't. But the main thing is she's going to be ok. We just have to look after her and make sure Tony doesn't try and retaliate. I put her stuff in my room for now. Davy and I are going to bunk together for a while."

"We don't have an extra bed," Micky said, ignoring the fact Mike was lying to him. He still felt too guilty from before to push things and start another fight. "Are you going to sleep on the floor?"

"No, the officer actually had a spare mattress he was going to sell. When he heard about what we were doing, he gave it to us."

"Wow," Peter said. "That was awfully nice of him!"

"Yeah it was," Micky agreed. "Are you sure you guys are ok bunking together on an old mattress?"

"Sure," Davy said. "The mattress is actually in pretty good condition so it's pretty comfortable."

"Davy's gonna take the mattress because he's so short that being that low to the ground won't really bother him," Mike joked. Davy gave him a little playful smack on the arm and all four laughed. Once the nurse came back in with Micky's discharge papers and instructions, Peter and Davy helped Micky out to the car. He was struggling a little with the crutches and quickly decided he hated them. His arms were strong from playing the drums, but it was still very difficult to keep himself held upright on them. When he relaxed, the crutches dug into his armpits. Peter climbed into the driver's seat to drive them home and Davy climbed into the passenger seat.

"Call the house when she's ready to be discharged," Peter told Mike who stood at the entrance seeing them off. "One of us will come back down for you."

"Mike?" Micky started before they drove away. "I know you're lying to me. I know she told you what happened, and for whatever reason, you don't want me to know. I really don't want to fight with you anymore, but just tell me one thing."

"What?" Mike sighed.

"Did Tony do it to her?" Mike took a while to answer, contemplating whatever ramifications telling Micky the truth might be. Micky looked into his eyes that still looked very haunted, begging for Mike to answer him. "It means a lot to me that you're doing this. That you convinced her to talk to the cops and that you're willing to let her stay with us. And you were right, I do still love her. That's why I have to know."

"You have to promise me that you won't do anything stupid," Mike answered and Micky had his answer. "Don't go after Tony, ok? Let the police deal with him." Micky's heart sank and he felt anger boil inside him again. But he knew this time he had to listen to Mike. He wouldn't go after Tony. He'd stay at the house with Rose. He'd protect her and never let this happen to her again.

"I promise."


	9. The Truth Comes Out

Author's note: The song featured in this chapter is one of my fave songs of all time (it's my current ringtone on my phone :D). it's not a monkees song, though. It was written by and sung by Micky Dolenz and therefore belongs to him, not me. It's called "Quiet Desperation" and is on his new album "Remember" released this year (September I think) which I think every monkees fan should listen to as it is a truly beautiful album that Micky describes as a "musical scrapbook of his life". In fact, the version of "Sometime in the Morning" I had Micky sing in chapter 3 is the version Micky sings in this album.

Chapter 9: The Truth Comes Out

Mike stood outside the door to Rose's hospital room. He needed answers from Rose, but didn't want to push her in her condition. He tried to gather his thoughts and figure out exactly what he was going to say to her so as not to upset her even more. With a final deep breath, he pushed the door open. She smiled when she saw him come in.

"Hi, Mike," she said. The color had returned to her face and she had more energy now.

"Hi, Rose," he said, sitting down in the chair he had sat in earlier. "You look like you're feeling better."

"I am," she answered, pushing herself up a little more. "Mike, I need to ask you something." She looked concerned now. "Did you talk to Micky about all this?"

"I told him bits and pieces," Mike answered, glad she'd opened the door first. "I told him that Tony was the one who did this to you, but I didn't tell him you were pregnant. I thought that should come from you."

"Good," Rose seemed relieved, "I don't really want him to know."

"You kind of have to tell him the truth. He deserves to know the truth and even though he's letting it go now, he's not going to let this go for long."

"He'll be devastated."

"I know. But you have to talk to him. And while we are on the subject, I need to ask _you_ something."

"What is it?"

"Micky said before you passed out that you said 'this can't be happening again'. Has this happened before?" Rose looked solemn.

"How much has Micky told you about us?"

"He said you have known each other since kindergarten and started dating in high school. Then somehow you got the idea he was cheating on you and broke up with him. Which, I really don't believe he would ever do, by the way."

"He did cheat on me."

"Where did you get that from? Did you see it?"

"No. Tony told me."

"And you still believe Tony after everything he did?"

"Tony's not the only one who told me. I confronted the girl he was with and she told me all about it."

"Then she was lying," Mike was really frustrated now. "I know Micky. He would never cheat on anyone. And with how much he loves you and everything he's been through after losing you, can you really say that he would ever want to be with anyone other than you? He's never had a serious relationship in the entire time I've known him. You've known him a lot longer than me, though. So you tell me, did you believe Tony when he first told you? Did you honestly believe Micky would ever do something like that?"

"No, I didn't," she spoke very quietly. "And a part of me didn't even believe the girl. Micky pled with me, trying to convince me he didn't…"

"Why didn't you believe him?"

"I don't know…I was overly emotional, I guess. And then when Tony told me what Micky said…" Her face paled as if she realized something. "Tony played me. He lied to me from the beginning."

"I'm not surprised."

"Mike, I'm so sorry," she was tearing up again. "I was so stupid. You must think I'm a fool."

"I don't think that at all," Mike said truthfully. "Sometimes people make mistakes. What makes them fools is the inability to see their mistakes and correct them." Mike paused, once again grabbing some tissues to help wipe away more tears. "Rose, I really need you to tell me about when this happened before. Were you pregnant before?"

"Yes," she croaked.

"Was it Tony's? Or Micky's?"

"Micky's," she answered. She looked up into his eyes. "I thought he knew. I told Tony and he said he'd talk to Micky. He swore to me that he talked to Micky and that Micky said he didn't want anything to do with me or the baby."

"You can't believe that's true. Not now."

"No, I don't."

"What happened?"

"It was my fault. I wasn't strong enough. I couldn't handle it."

"I don't believe that, Rose. Sometimes those things just happen." Rose was nearly sobbing now. Mike brushed her hair out of her eyes; trying everything he could to soothe her.

"That's what my parents said. And the doctors."

"Then I think you should listen to them." Mike's heart really went out to her. It's not like she purposefully tried to keep the truth from Micky. Mike fully understood now what had happened. And even with his level head and sense of responsibility, he wanted to kill Tony. Tony had broken the lives of two innocent people just to get what he wanted. He broke up Rose and Micky with a concocted story of betrayal and had somehow gotten the other girl to lie too. Then he had swooped in and toyed with Rose's emotions to steal her away from Micky. When he felt danger of the two reconciling because of the baby, he had made sure Micky didn't know about it and made sure Rose believed Micky abandoned her. This whole situation was a mess and Mike had no idea how to fix any of it. He knew that the truth would have to come out and that there would be a lot of dangerous emotions running high.

"I have to tell him," Rose mumbled. "I have to tell Micky about the baby, don't I?"

"Yes, you do," Mike said, taking her hand in his trying to give her some strength. "You don't have to do it now. You both need to heal a little." She nodded, but looked so much more fragile than when Mike had first walked in. Mike's heart sank once again. The past several days had been nothing but an emotional roller coaster and he really hoped that it would all be over soon.

* * *

It wasn't until around noon later that day that Micky woke up in his bed, hungry. He groaned from the pain in his ankle and wished the pain killers he'd been given had lasted longer. He reached over to the night stand and grabbed the bottle of pain killers Peter had filled for him the night before and the glass of water before taking another dose to dull the pain. He looked at the little bell that Peter had given him the night before. Peter was only the next room over and would hear the bell if Micky rang it loud enough and would get Micky whatever he needed. But Micky didn't want to wake his friend. Micky had fallen asleep 6 hours ago and Peter was still up at the time, so who knew how long Peter had been sleeping.

Ignoring the bell, Micky grabbed the crutches the doctor gave him and carefully and quietly maneuvered his way out of the room and down the stairs. When he got to the kitchen, he very carefully got some cereal ready for himself. He nearly fell over twice before giving up with the crutches and setting them to the side and resorting to hoping around on one foot. When he finally had his bowl of cereal ready, he sat down to eat it. Not a minute after finishing the last bite, he heard Peter yell from the top of the stairs.

"Micky!" he called. "What are you doing!?"

"Eating breakfast," Micky replied innocently, but knowing exactly what Peter was getting at.

"You're not supposed to be moving around!" Peter nearly ran down the stairs. "I gave you a bell to ring for me if you needed anything!"

"I didn't want to wake you," Micky replied.

"But you're supposed to be resting," Peter took the now empty bowl from Micky and carried it to the sink. "The doctor told you no moving around for a few days. _Then_ you can move around on the crutches!"

"Guys, what is going on out here?" Came Mike's voice as he and Davy emerged from Davy's room.

"Micky decided to come down here and make a bowl of cereal," Peter answered, "even though the doctor told him not to move around."

"Didn't you give him a bell last night?" Davy asked through a large yawn.

"He did, but I didn't want to use it," Micky said, a little exasperated. "Forgive me for not wanting my friends to wait on me hand and foot."

"That's not what we're trying to do, Micky!" Davy yelled.

"Ssh!" Mike clapped his hand over Davy's mouth. "Don't wake Rose. She needs an awful lot of rest herself."

"What time did you guys get home?" Micky asked, grateful for a change of topic.

"Around 8 or so," Mike answered. "Davy came and picked us up."

"Is she doing ok?"

"Yeah, she just needs to rest and drink a lot of fluids." Mike sat down at the table and Micky got a really good look at his face now. His eyes looked even more haunted than the night before, which Micky didn't think was possible. His face was pale and slack. Mike looked like he had aged about 20 years overnight.

"Mike, you should go back to bed," Peter said, also noticing how he looked. "You look terrible. Sorry we woke you."

"Nah, I'm fine," Mike answered. "Can't sleep much right now anyway."

"Well, I'm going back to bed," Davy answered with a yawn for emphasis. He had bags under his eyes as well.

"What about you, Pete?" Micky asked, thinking he had maybe 6 hours of sleep himself.

"I'm fine," Peter answered, now getting himself a bowl of cereal. "I fell asleep right after you, actually. Mike, want some corn flakes?"

"Sure, thanks Peter," Mike answered. "I'm going to check on Rose real fast though." Mike pushed himself up and slowly walked over to his door. He opened the door slowly and silently and slipped in. Moments later he slipped back out, just as quietly as he had entered.

"How is she?" Micky asked when Mike had sat back down at the table.

"Good," he answered, staring at the bowl of cereal Peter had put in front of him. "She's still sleeping. The doctor said that she'll probably be sleeping a while today with the medications he gave her, but to keep an eye on her temperature to make sure she didn't develop a fever." The three of them sat in silence for a few moments before Micky couldn't take it anymore.

"Mike, why won't you tell me what's wrong with her?" Peter stopped eating, his spoon halfway to his mouth. Mike, however, didn't even look up for a few moments. When he finally did, he looked Micky dead in the eye.

"It's not that I don't want to tell you," Mike started. "I need you to understand that more than anything. It's just…It's very, very complicated and Rose needs to be the one to tell you about it. She'll be fine physically, but she's got a lot of emotional healing to do. As do you. There are definitely some things you both have to work out together as well as separately. You will find out what happened to Rose, but you both need to heal a little first. I promise." Micky leaned back in his chair, unsatisfied with the answer, but not wanting to push the issue. Mike seemed like he was incredibly distressed by whatever was going on. Micky knew that Mike really cared about him, and was trying to do what was best for Micky.

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. Micky watched a little TV and ended up falling asleep for a few hours during one of him favorite movies. Mike had checked in on Rose every few hours, but Micky still hadn't seen her. Whenever Micky suggested he wanted to go in and see her, he was met with resistance from his friends. Peter reminded him of the doctors' orders, and had at one point taken his crutches away from him when he tried to walk on them to get a drink. Mike told him that Rose needed to rest, and his being in there might wake her up and stress her out. Davy, who had only spent another couple of hours in bed, tried to distract Micky by rambling on about everything you needed to know to be a jockey. As the sun began to set that night, Micky really wanted to get some fresh air, so Peter relented and gave him his crutches long enough to go outside. Micky decided he wanted to work on some music he'd recently been writing, so Davy brought him his music books and Mike lent him his guitar. He was now looking at the sheet music making slight changes. The song was almost finished and Micky played it to hear how it sounded.

"Had a friend - a good ol' boy, taught me all I need to know 'bout livin' life on this ol' spinnin' wheel.  
His advice was simple stuff - devil's here to make it tough. Lord's around to see you pay your bill.

Had a girl - she promised me we'd love each other faithfully - took eternal vows as lovers do.  
Then one day she changed her mind - left me on a line to dry, tellin' me what I already knew.

Most men lead lives of quiet desperation. Try to make ends meet and keep the love alive.  
Fight against all odds until the final curtain - go away and find some place to cry.

Had a friend we had a deal - we couldn't lose was it's appeal. Gave him all I had to see it fly!  
Then one day I got a call, seems as though we'd lost it all. He was sorry - I just had to smile.

Most men lead lives of quiet desperation. Try to make ends meet and keep the love alive.  
Fight against all odds until the final curtain - go away and find some place to cry.

I wonder why I keep tryin' - must be somethin' in my genes.  
Any minute now I'll see the light - realize what it means.

Most men lead lives of quiet desperation. Try to make ends meet and keep the love alive.  
Fight against all odds until the final curtain - go away and find some place to cry.

Go away and find some place to cry.  
Go away and find some place to cry.  
Go away and find some place to die..."

When he had finished, he decided he liked it, even though it had a country sound which was very different for him, and put down the guitar. Usually the country songs were written by Mike, but Micky had to admit that he was a secret country music fan, too. He heard a rustling behind him and he turned to see Rose standing in the doorway.

"Rose," Micky said, "I thought you were supposed to be resting?"

"I got tired of sitting in bed," she replied. "Can I sit down?"

"Of course." Micky looked through the window in the alcove and saw Mike watching them from the other side. "Did Mike say it was ok for you to come out here? He might ground you if you came out here without permission, you know." Rose laughed.

"I miss your jokes," she said. Micky couldn't help it as a smile stretched across his face. "He said it was ok, as long as I don't do anything too strenuous."

"So running down the beach is out of the question for both of us," Micky joked again, eliciting another laugh from her.

"There are some things I want to talk to you about, Micky." Her tone was very serious, and Micky turned in his chair to face her. He saw Mike still watching them and felt very unnerved.

"Go ahead," he said.

"I know it's about four years too late, but I'm sorry," Micky saw her eyes begin to water. "I should have believed you when you said you were never with that woman."

"It's ok," Micky started, but she stopped him, placing a hand on his arm.

"Please don't," she said. "This is very hard for me and I want to just get it out. I don't even know if I can tell you everything yet." She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes before she began again. "I should have believed you. Part of me did. When Tony first told me, I…"

"Wait, Tony said I cheated on you?!" Micky felt anger surge through his chest.

"Micky, please!"

"I'm sorry."

"When Tony told me, I refused to believe him," she continued. "But he took me to the girl who he said he caught you with and she told me things you two did together. Now I realize that Tony must have made her say those things." She stopped now, and it looked like she wanted to continue but couldn't. Micky reached out and took both her hands in his.

"It's ok, Rose. I forgive you. It was a long time ago."

"I should have listened to you, but my emotions were messed up." She wasn't looking at him, but staring down at their joined hands.

"If you don't want to do this right now, we don't have to."

"No, I want to. Promise you won't be mad at me?"

"I already told you I forgive you."

"No. I…something happened after I broke up with you. I told Tony about it and told him that I had to tell you about it. He convinced me not to. He said that he would talk to you so I wouldn't have to deal with you. He said that you didn't want anything to do with… my situation. But he lied to me. He never told you. And I'm really sorry for that."

"If that's the case, I'm mad at him, not you," Micky said, reaching up and tucking her hair behind her ear. "It seems as though Tony played us both, just to get you. He was always jealous of us, but I never paid any attention to it. Seems there's a lot I never paid attention to when it came to him. If I had, he never would have hurt you. And for that _I_ am sorry."

"It's not your fault, Micky. I am the one who was foolish enough to stay with him after the first time he hit me."

"Don't think that about yourself. People make mistakes. What matters is that you're ok now and away from him. As long as you're here, I'm not going to let him hurt you ever again." She smiled at him, looking him in the eyes now. He could see a similar haunted look in her eyes that Mike had.

"I'm sorry I scared you last night," she said.

"All that matters is that you're ok now."

"I need to tell you what happened. I…" she drifted off and looked through the window at Mike, who was still watching them. Micky saw Mike nod at her, as if urging her on. Micky squeezed her hand even tighter in his, also letting her know it was ok. She took another deep breath before starting again. "I had a miscarriage last night." Micky's mind blanked. He couldn't believe what he just heard. But she continued with the awful truth. "You were right. Tony was angry I went to see you and he kicked me in the stomach. It caused me to bleed and I…I lost the baby." She broke down and began crying full force now. Without thinking, Micky kneeled on the ground in front of her and wrapped her in a tight embrace, not wanting to let her go, despite the weird angle his foot and ankle were in.

"It's ok, Rose," he whispered. "He won't hurt you anymore. I won't let him. I swear to you." They sat there for minutes, Rose crying into Micky's shoulder and Micky holding her as tightly as he could, stroking her hair and whispering to her that she wasn't going to be hurt anymore. Micky felt like crying, but tried to stay strong for her.

"Micky," Mike said very softly from the doorway. Micky didn't know how long he'd been standing there, but he looked very distraught. "I really don't want to interrupt, but you need to get off your ankle." Rose seemed to suddenly remember this, and pushed Micky away back into his chair.

"I'm ok," Micky lied. His ankle did hurt again.

"Don't lie on my account," Rose said through the last bit of tears. Micky smiled at her, and took her hands in his once again. "Micky, this isn't the first time this has happened to me," she said as she tore her eyes away from his again. "This happened four years ago, too." Micky felt like someone kicked him in the chest. He pieced it together now. The thing Rose wanted to tell Micky about, but Tony had convinced her to let him deal with. What she thought he had abandoned her over.

"You were pregnant four years ago?" Micky asked, though he already knew the answer.

"I'm so sorry, Micky," she still didn't look at him. "Tony told me that he told you. He lied to me. He said you didn't want anything to do with me…or the baby." Micky felt sick. How could Tony not have told him that Rose had been pregnant? With Micky's own child.

"It's not your fault," Micky managed to croak out. "You were played. We both were." Micky felt so many emotions wash through him. Rage, hatred, guilt, pain. It was too much for him to process, and he knew Rose had to be feeling the same. Micky wanted desperately to hold her again, but as soon as he had made a move, Rose pushed him back down.

"Don't," she said. "You don't need to be re-injuring your foot for me."

"Rose, I should have been there for you," Micky started. "I know this is Tony's fault, but I should have fought harder for you instead of giving up."

"Don't blame yourself, Micky. Please."

"What happened to the…our baby?" It was so hard for him to even think the words, let alone say them.

"The doctors just said that it was natural. If you can call a miscarriage natural. They said there's nothing I could have done. There wasn't a reason for it. It just happened."

"Rose…" he trailed off. He didn't even have any words. He felt numb now. He had almost been a father, and never knew about it. He knew he should be angry, but he just felt so numb. Rose got up this time and sat down carefully at Micky's feet so he could hold her without hurting his ankle. He looked up to where Mike had been standing before, but he was gone. Mike wasn't even standing in the window anymore. It was just the two of them. Micky understood now why Mike had looked so haunted. Rose must have told him what had happened, and Mike must have felt so much pain for his friend. Had he convinced Rose to tell Micky? Is that why he was standing there in the window before? Offering Rose support from a distance. Micky knew that he'd have to do something for Mike later to show how much he appreciated what Mike had done for both him and Rose.


	10. Restless

Authors note: Slight nod to PlushChrome in here for being so helpful to me. Hope you like it!

Chapter 10: Restless

Micky sat down at the kitchen table a few days later. Mike was already there, reading the paper.

"Hey, did you want some breakfast?" Mike asked upon seeing him. "I made eggs and toast. It's not much, but it's something." Micky could still move around a little, but was having a hard time trying to make any food for himself while holding the crutches. The hopping around only got him so far.

"No, I'm fine," Micky said. "At least for now. I wanted to talk to you before the others got up." Peter, Rose and Davy were all still sound asleep. This is the first time Micky and Mike had been alone in days, and Micky was going to seize the opportunity to make sure Mike knew how grateful he was for everything he'd done for both him and Rose.

"Talk?" Mike asked, now folding up the newspaper and setting it down on the table.

"Yeah," Micky answered. "Listen, I wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me and for Rose."

"Oh, you don't need to thank me for that," Mike said.

"Of course I do. I have this feeling that were it not for you, Rose never would have told me the truth. And she and I never would have worked things out."

"Where'd you get that idea from?" Mike asked trying to be coy, but Micky saw a smile flash across his face for a quick second.

"Oh, maybe from you hovering in the window the other day," Micky joked.

"You saw that, huh?" Mike laughed.

"Yeah, and I gotta tell you, that was a little creepy," Micky chuckled.

"Sorry, that wasn't my intention."

"Your intention was to offer support to Rose." Micky said, all laughter aside now. Mike nodded. "Thank you. You know, you didn't even have to take her in here. You make a habit of taking in strays, and one day you're gonna regret it."

"Yeah, I've taken in 4 now and look how miserable I am!" They both shared a laugh, before turning serious again.

"I'm serious, though, Mike. I really appreciate all of it. It means a lot to me. Especially since we were both kind of at each other's throats."

"I think that may be the first time you and I have ever fought."

"I think so, too. I was being stupid. I should have listened to you. I wasn't even really listening to myself."

"It's ok, Mick, we all get that way from time to time. Especially when love is involved. You know how Davy NEVER listens to us when he meets a beautiful girl."

"With him it's always love at first sight."

"And it usually ends up getting us in trouble. I think I'm going to start blindfolding him whenever we go out."

"Yeah, since apparently chaining him to a chair doesn't work." They laughed again, but realized they were beginning to get a little loud, so calmed themselves down before they woke up any of the others.

"Micky, can I ask you something now?" Mike asked.

"Sure," Micky answered, unsure of where this was going.

"In the hospital, you said that we did more for you than we knew. What exactly did you mean by that?"

"It's just an expression, Mike," Micky answered squirming a bit in his chair. He did not want to go into this with any of them. This was his burden to bear.

"It didn't seem that way. It seemed like you were holding something back."

"No, nothing. Hey, can I get those eggs and toast now?" Micky really hoped Mike would just drop it. It seemed like hours had passed before Mike sighed and got up to fix Micky a plate. Micky breathed a sigh of relief that he hoped was inaudible to Mike. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath. The conversation was completely dropped when Peter came downstairs with a yawn.

"Morning, guys," he smiled at them.

"Morning, Pete," Micky said as Mike handed him a plate of food and a glass of milk. "Thanks, Mike." Mike smiled back at Micky, but it seemed a little half-hearted. Micky wondered briefly if he had upset Mike again. He didn't have long to think about it as Davy and Rose woke up within the hour, too. By mid-morning all five were gathered around the table and chatting, joking, and teasing about various things.

Later in the afternoon, Micky decided he wanted to try and play the drums again. Peter helped him get comfortable behind the drum set and the four of them decided to start a rehearsal session. They launched into "Love is Sleeping", which went very smoothly. Rose smiled during the song and told them how much she liked it when they were done. They did a few more songs with Rose watching and voicing her approval each time.

They finally wrapped up their rehearsal when Peter announced he was hungry. Mike walked over to the fridge and opened it. He frowned a little and opened the freezer, frowning again. When he opened the cupboard that held their food, he shook his head.

"Well, for lunch we can have spaghetti, but we don't have anything for sauce," Mike said turning to them. Micky was making his way towards one of the chairs in the living room.

"Didn't we go to the store the other day?" Micky asked, slowly lowering himself into the chair.

"That's why we have the spaghetti," Mike answered. Rose walked into the kitchen and looked in their cupboards, fridge and freezer.

"I've never seen cupboards this bare before," she said.

"We haven't had a gig in a while," Davy said. "Which means we don't have a lot of money."

"I used the last of the eggs and bread on breakfast this morning," Mike added.

"Well, that won't do," Rose said. "One of you take me to the grocery store."

"You need to be resting, Rose," Mike said.

"Well, we all need food and I have some money," Rose quipped. "And if I'm staying here free of charge, I'm going to help with groceries." She walked into Mike's room, which was currently hers, and grabbed her purse to stop any further argument. Peter, Mike and Davy all looked at Micky as if he should be the one to try and talk her into staying home.

"Hey, don't look at me!" he exclaimed, "She can be as stubborn as a mule. When she decides to do something, she does it. She's probably going as stir crazy as I am anyway."

"Neither of you should be leaving," Davy said. "So just forget about how stir crazy you are."

"Davy, when we locked you in the house because of that crazy tea lady's con, you went stir crazy after about 15 minutes, so I don't want to hear it." Mike and Peter snickered and Davy opened his mouth to argue, but quickly closed it when he realized Micky was right. Rose walked out with her hair up in a ponytail and her purse over her shoulder.

"Which one of you is taking me?" she asked. "Or am I taking myself?"

"Not happening when we don't know what's going on with Tony and his friends," Micky stated.

"I can take her," Mike said, grabbing the keys to the Monkemobile and waking out the front door with Rose. They returned a little over an hour later and Mike's arms were overloaded with bags of food. Peter and Davy jumped up and rushed to help Mike as he nearly lost his balance.

"How much did you buy?!" Peter exclaimed, taking some of the bags off Mike's arms.

"There are still more bags in the car," Mike said. "She bought us enough food to last a month."

"You must be joking!" Davy said.

"My parents sent me money after I told them what happened," Rose answered. "I wanted the money to go to good use. You know, I can carry _some_ of the bags."

"Yeah, but you didn't have to buy that much food for us," Micky argued. "And you're not lifting anything until you get the all clear from the doctor."

"I may not have had to buy this much, but I wanted to," Rose answered. Davy shook his head and went to get the rest of the food from the car before Rose could protest more about helping. Peter and Mike began unloading the groceries while Rose sat down next to Micky. Normally, Micky would be goofing off while Mike tried to work, like when he took a clean dish from Davy after wiping it dry and handing it back to Mike to clean again. That was his favorite prank to pull on Mike and was surprised Mike even still let him help with the dishes. But if he even tried to make a move around the house lately, one of his friends would watch him very closely, as if waiting for him to fall. It was very unnerving, so Micky resigned himself to lounging around and working on his music.

"So what should we eat for lunch now?" Peter asked when everything had been put away. "I was kind of looking forward to spaghetti." Micky laughed; Peter was a very strange man.

"We now have a house full of food," Davy said, laughing too. "More food than we've probably ever had in this house, and you want spaghetti still?"

"Spaghetti is good!" Peter defended.

"It is, but how about I make some sauce to go with it this time," Mike laughed. "I can actually make my Mom's homemade recipe." Rose looked at the entire exchange in awe.

"You have some weird friends," she said to Micky.

"Yep!" Micky answered. "But I wouldn't trade 'em for the world!"

"I don't know, Micky," Peter said. "If someone offered you the world in exchange for us, I think you should take the world. Maybe you could really make a difference."

"Yeah, but it would be too hard to carry around all the time," Micky quipped without missing a beat. The house was full of nothing but laughter and jokes for the rest of the day. When it came time to figure out dinner, Peter joked he wanted leftover spaghetti, but Rose decided to make them some meatloaf instead.

"This is delicious!" Peter exclaimed after tasting it.

"I've had better," Micky joked.

"Haha!" Rose quipped. "Meatloaf has always been your favorite." Micky smiled at her. He really did like meatloaf. And Rose's was one of the best. After dinner, Davy and Mike did the dishes, and without Micky's "help" it went much faster. Micky watched Rose staring out the window, lost in her thoughts.

"You ok?" he asked.

"Yeah," she sighed, clearly lying. "I just hate being cooped up like this."

"I know," Micky said. "I do too, but I'd rather us be cooped up and have you safe than the alternative."

"Do you really think he's going to try anything now? It's been days."

"He could," Peter said joining them. "You never know if he's just waiting until he lets your guard down."

"Or if he even knows where you are," Micky added.

"You really don't think he'd assume you'd take me in?" she asked, skeptical.

"Maybe." Micky shrugged, thinking she had a point.

"Which brings up a good point," she continued. "You are all in as much danger as I am."

"Yeah, but we kind of outnumber him," Davy said, also joining in.

"I don't think that's going to matter to him."

"Don't worry," Mike added. "I've got ways of keeping us safe." Micky looked at Mike questioningly.

"Like what?" Micky asked. "Our imaginary dog?"

"Imaginary dog?" Rose asked.

"Peter brings home a lot of doggie bags," Davy answered her. "It's kind of an inside joke."

"Or I could feed you some of Peter's cream of root beer soup to turn you into a werewolf again," Mike quipped. Micky laughed and howled a little.

"Cream of root beer soup?" Rose asked, shaking her head. "Peter, before I leave here, I'm going to teach you to make real soup."

"We've tried teaching him how to cook," Davy laughed. "It never ended very well." They spent the next hour recounting all the times they had tried to help Peter learn to cook. Rose didn't seem to be very invested in the conversation, however. Micky could tell she was only half listening.

"Rose, I know you want to go out," Micky started. "But the doctor said you need to be focusing on healing over the next few days."

"And why can't I go to the park and heal or something?" Rose asked.

"Hey, I've got an idea!" Davy suddenly burst, eliciting startled jumps from Micky and Peter.

"Don't do that," Micky said flatly.

"What is your idea, Davy?" Mike asked.

"I could take her to my friend's horse ranch."

"Oh, I love horses!" Rose said.

"I don't know, Davy," Peter said. "Should she be riding a horse right now?" Peter and Davy had been told a few days ago of the extent of Rose's situation. Micky agreed, not sure jostling around on a horse was a good idea right now.

"Not outright riding them," Davy said, "but I've been looking into this project my friend is working on. He's training and breeding horses for equine therapy."

"What's that?"

"A lot of studies show that animals help people to heal. They even bring dogs into hospitals for kids to play with while they recover. Equine therapy is used more for emotional healing and to teach kids with certain disorders not to be afraid, but I think Rose still might like it. All you do is sit on the horse and let it walk around with you on its back. It's supposed to be therapeutic. It'll get her out of the house, and I'll be with her, so if something should happen, I can get her out of there. And since my friend is just getting started in it, he could kind of use Rose as practice with the horses."

"Sounds like it could be a good idea," Mike said. Micky wasn't so sure about letting Rose out of his sight for that long, but he saw the longing in her eyes. He remembered how much she liked horses. The two of them would ride horses almost every weekend.

"Sure," Micky succumbed. As soon as he said it, however, he got a feeling in the pit of his stomach. As though something bad were going to happen.

"I'll give him a call, see when he wants us to come over," Davy said. Rose turned to Micky with a look of gratitude, as if she needed his permission to do this.

"Thank you, Micky," she said, and before he knew what she was doing, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek before getting up and running to her room. He sat there for a moment in shock before he realized that Peter and Mike were both staring at him with smiles on their faces.

"What?!" he asked, hoping he wasn't blushing too badly. But based on the laughter from Peter and Mike, he guessed he was. Micky ignored them and carefully made his way up the stairs to his own room, which wasn't easy to do on crutches, but he was getting better at it. He had a lot of thinking to do now, and he couldn't do it with prying eyes and ridicule from his friends, even though he knew it was only playful ridicule. He lay down on his bed and thought.

Why had she kissed him? What did it mean? Did she just do it because she was excited? Or did she want something more? It was only on the cheek, after all, so maybe it meant nothing to her. Neither of them had talked about where they were going to go as far as a relationship. Micky assumed that they would become friends, just as they had before they began dating. But Micky knew how hard it was for him, especially the first few days. He loved her laugh, her smile, her eyes, everything about her. Since that day on the patio when he had held and comforted her, it seemed like the last four years hadn't happened for them. It was as if they picked up exactly where they left off, but without the closeness they once shared. Now Micky had to decide if he wanted to just remain friends with her, or become more again. He didn't want to drag himself through heartache and misery anymore, but would that really happen again? Tony was the one who had torn them apart, and Tony was soon to be out of the picture.

"Micky?" Mike called through the door with a soft knock.

"Yeah?" Micky called through, sitting up. "Come on in." Mike pushed the door open and smiled at him.

"Rose and Davy are going to go to the stables now. She's just too excited. Says she hasn't been near a horse in years."

"That's good," Micky said. "She should get some fresh air and have a little fun."

"You doing ok?"

"I don't know," Micky sighed. "That kiss kinda threw me."

"I'm sorry," Mike said. "Peter and I shouldn't have laughed."

"It's ok," Micky answered with a smile.

"You want to talk about it? Maybe it'll help you figure things out." Mike pulled up a chair and sat backwards in it without waiting for Micky's response. Micky smiled, loving how Mike always seemed to know what was going on with them and how he was always there to lend an ear.

"I don't know where she and I stand," Micky started. "I don't know where I _want_ to stand with her."

"I'm guessing neither of you have really talked about it."

"No. I don't really know what I'd say if we did. I don't know what I want. I don't know what _she_ wants."

"Forget about what she wants for now, focus on yourself first. What do you think about when you see her?"

"How beautiful she is in every way," Micky answered without thinking.

"Ok, doesn't that tell you something?"

"But I also don't know if I want to put myself through hell again."

"Who says that's going to happen?"

"Who says it won't?" Micky countered. "I mean, who's to say that we won't break up again if we get back together?"

"Well, no one, I guess, but just because it's hard to swim, don't mean you shouldn't jump in the pool. Just start in the shallow end first." Micky had to smile at Mike's metaphors.

"Maybe you're right," Micky smiled at Mike. "I'll talk to her tomorrow and find out what she wants. That kiss may have just been her way of thanking me."

"Most people usually just hug or something," Mike pointed out. "I mean, I've never kissed you when I thank you."

"And I appreciate that!" Micky laughed. Mike smiled and got up from the chair.

"I'll leave you alone to think," Mike said. "Good night, Micky."

"Night, Mike," he answered as Mike shut the door behind him. Micky lay back down on the bed and thought some more. Maybe Mike was right. Maybe he should just stick his feet in the water to see how it felt.

Before long, he'd drifted off to sleep, not realizing how tired he was. He dreamt of Rose and the time they had spent together. The good and the bad. He dreamt of the time he shoved a crayon up another kid's nose in kindergarten after the kid had stolen it from Rose. He dreamt of the first kiss they shared at the end of freshman year. He dreamt of the first time they were together during a senior trip they'd taken. But he also dreamt of the look of heartbreak on her face when she came to him with her accusation of cheating. The pain he felt from her mistrust coursed through him. If they were to go any further, they would have to work out some serious trust issues.

He was only asleep for a few hours, when he woke up to someone kicking his bed. He opened his eyes to see who was in his room and found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.


	11. Consequences

Author's Note: This chapter contains violence and some blood.

Chapter 11: Consequences

Peter woke up with a start. He wasn't really sure why he'd woken up, but it didn't take him long to figure out. A strange man hovered over him pointing a gun in his face. Peter froze in terror.

"I said get up," the man growled. Peter did as the man asked raising both hands in the air in surrender. The man motioned for Peter to walk out the door, so Peter led the way out. "Get downstairs with your friend." Peter looked downstairs and saw Mike being tied to a chair by another goon. This one he recognized as the man that had pulled the gun on them in the parking lot a few days before. It was one of Tony's friends. Peter remembered that Micky had called him Freddie. He felt the gun in his back and made his way down the stairs and sat next to Mike, who looked at him with fear and worry etched on his face. Neither of them saw Micky, Davy or Rose.

"Did you find anyone else?" the goon who had woken Peter asked Freddie, who now began tying Peter to the chair.

"No," Freddie answered.

"Tony's not gonna be happy."

"Probably not, but he'll make Dolenz tell him where she is." Peter felt his heart sink. What exactly were they going to do to Micky? Mike and Peter jumped when they heard a loud crash coming from Micky's room. They turned to see Tony yank open the door and throw Micky in a heap at the top of the stairs.

"He's crippled," Tony laughed. "Can't even walk on his own." Tony threw Micky's crutches over the railing for emphasis. Peter could only watch in horror as Micky tried to push himself up and fight back, but Tony only laughed and kicked him. Peter and Mike both winced as Micky let out a pained cry. "Did you find her?" Tony asked his goons.

"She's not here," Freddie answered. "Neither is the fourth boy. We checked all the rooms, closets and bathrooms. Only found this one sleeping over there." He smacked Mike on the back of the head for emphasis before pointing to Mike and Davy's room they now shared.

"This one was asleep too," said the third goon. Peter braced himself to get hit too, but he didn't. Tony knelt down in order to get lower to Micky's face.

"Where is she, Micky?" he sneered. Peter heard Micky mumble something about where Micky thought Tony should go. This only made Tony angry, though, and he grabbed Micky by the back of his hair, lifting him up. Micky looked like he was in a lot of pain, and Peter tried to struggle to loosen the bonds holding his hands together. If he could get his hands free, he could untie the ropes holding his arms to the chair and help. Tony asked Micky again where Rose was, but when Micky didn't answer, he pushed him off the second floor. Peter heard Micky land with a thud and Micky cried out in pain.

"Micky!" Peter and Mike both exclaimed. Mike now began vigorously struggling against his ropes, causing him to get smacked in the head again.

"Cut that out!" Freddie barked. Micky groaned in pain as he tried to push himself up again, but Tony reached him before he could. Tony picked him up by the arm and dragged him over to a third chair that Freddie had put in the middle of the room. Peter continued to struggle against the ropes that held him, but tried to be as discreet as he could about it. After seeing Mike get smacked for trying to free himself, Peter didn't want to draw attention to himself and get hit, too. So he slowly moved his hands, turning his wrists trying to stretch the ropes out enough to slip his hand free. Peter watched as Tony lifted Micky into the chair and instructed Freddie to tie him up too.

"I'm really not going to keep asking you this," Tony said, grinning sadistically at Micky. "I know she came here. I know you are taking care of her. Even though that's my job."

"Well, you were doing a bad job of it, so she fired you," Micky snapped. Peter thought sarcasm and wit probably wasn't a good idea right now, but kept his mouth shut. Sure enough, Tony slapped Micky across the face.

"Stop it!" Mike exclaimed. "Leave him alone!"

"Oh, and you're going to stop me?" Tony laughed, now turning on Mike. Peter focused harder on freeing his hands, afraid of where this was going. It pained him to see his friends being hurt like this. When they'd been in situations like this before, they'd always been cowardly and done as their captors wanted, like when they were told to steal that weird Maltese vulture. This time was different. This time a life was one the line. The life of someone they'd all grown to care about, so they weren't going to tell Tony anything about where she was.

"Let Micky go," Mike said through gritted teeth.

"I'll let him go, as soon as one of you tells me where my fiancé is."

"She's not your fiancé anymore," Micky snapped. "She knows the kind of person you really are, and she hates you. I'm not going to let you anywhere near her."

"We'll see about that," Tony said, the sadistic smile plastered on his face again. Peter could only watch as Tony punched Micky in the face. Mike began struggling against his ropes again and Peter tried to quietly tell Mike to stop because it would only cause him to get hit again. It was too late, however, as Freddie came back over to Mike and this time hit him with the butt of his gun. Peter winced and watched Mike go limp.

"I told you not to do that," Freddie told an unconscious Mike.

"Mike!" Micky cried out. Peter looked back over at him and noticed that Micky had gone completely pale, and there was a small amount of blood coming from his nose. Peter's resolve was even more set. He had to free his hands, but he wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do after that. With Mike knocked out, it was three goons against Peter. Peter looked around for a possible weapon to use, but nothing really sprang to mind. He was a pacifist, really. He hated hurting people. But Tony and his goons had backed him into a corner. He didn't think that Davy and Rose would be at the stables for that long, and feared that if they came back in the middle of this…he didn't even want to think about it. His eyes landed on a pot sitting on the table next to him. It was heavy and solid. Surely he could hit these guys with it, but they had guns. With bullets. He wouldn't be any good to his friends with a bullet wound. He'd have to plan whatever he did very, very carefully. He kept his eye and ear on everything else that was going on as he formulated his plan.

"Let them go," Micky pled. "They have nothing to do with this."

"They've seen my face," Tony said. "If there's one thing I learned from my night in jail, it's not to leave any witnesses. Thank you for that, by the way, Micky. I think it's safe to assume that it was you who told the good little doctors that were tending to my girl that I hit her. I warned you to stay away. You didn't listen to me and she ended up in the hospital."

"She ended up in the hospital because of you," Micky spat. "You kicked her. You killed your own child." Peter could almost feel the anger radiating from Tony. He looked at Micky, trying desperately to tell him to stop antagonizing Tony, but Micky wasn't looking at him. Peter winced when Micky took another punch. Peter couldn't watch this anymore. He felt sick to his stomach. But he never once stopped wiggling and twisting his wrists against his restraints.

Suddenly Mike groaned a little as he started to wake up. Peter looked over at him. There was a small trickle of blood coming out of Mike's hair, but at least Mike was waking up. None of the goons saw this, however, as they were watching Tony continue to hit Micky. Peter thought if they didn't hear him groaning, they probably wouldn't hear if Peter whispered to Mike. They were close enough, that he was sure Mike would hear him.

"Mike," he whispered. Mike looked at him, a little confused. "Don't struggle. Don't talk. Don't fight. Please." Peter was almost free of his ropes and didn't want Mike to draw any more attention to either of them. Peter assumed that since they thought Mike was unconscious and Peter hadn't said anything nor struggled the whole time, they didn't see either of them as a risk worthy of their attention. Peter was going to use that to his benefit.

"Freddie, go out front and wait for Rose and the other boy to come back," Tony instructed. "He'll probably be with her." Peter felt a small amount of glee cross over him. They were lowering the score in Peter's favor. Now he just had to worry about two men. When Freddie closed the front door, Peter felt himself get even looser. Mike was starting to come around further, and seemed to remember what was going on.

"Mike, don't!" Peter hissed as Mike started to struggle. Mike looked at him puzzled, but stopped.

"Don't hurt her," Micky muttered. Peter could see he was going very weak. His lip was bleeding and his eye was swollen shut. "You hurt her, and I'll kill you."

"Shut up," Tony spat. "There's nothing you can do to me." For emphasis, Tony kicked Micky's bad ankle, causing Micky to scream in pain. Peter felt sick again, but forced himself to stay focused. Mike cried out a little, but it was masked by the combination of Micky's scream and Tony's laughter. Peter hissed at Mike once again to be quiet, and suddenly felt one of his hands slip out of his bonds. He was free! Partly. He quickly waved at Mike to show him he was free and silently pled for him to not make a noise. His plan would fail if they turned around and saw him. Peter was banking on Tony not having a gun on him as he slipped his other hand free. Carefully and quietly, he pulled the ropes off his chest and arms tying him to the chair. He reached for the cast iron pot sitting on the table and quietly crept up to the goon who so rudely woken him up. He also hoped Freddie was far enough away from the house so he wouldn't hear the commotion. He knew however, that Tony would hear the sound of the pot being brought against his goon's head.

Sure enough, as soon as the pot made contact, Tony whirled around to face Peter. Peter had anticipated this, and leapt out of the way as the goon crumpled to the ground and Tony lunged for him. This is where he hadn't had a chance to work out the rest of the plan, so he'd have to wing it. He ran toward the stairs, but hadn't anticipated Tony grabbing his goon's gun.

"Peter, look out!" he heard Mike and Micky yell in unison just before the sound of the gun being fired in his direction. He ducked just in time, and the bullet whizzed over his head. Freddie had to have heard that, so Peter had to think fast. All he could think of was playing baseball as a kid and threw the pot as hard as he could at Tony like a pitcher throwing a baseball. Tony ducked, but the pot still nicked him. It wasn't enough to knock him out, but it did disorient him a little. Peter took this opportunity to rush Tony and tackle him to the floor. He landed one good punch in the face and knocked Tony out.

Peter now sat on top of an unconscious Tony, breathing hard. It had all happened so fast, he still wasn't really sure what happened. He briefly forgot about his friends and all he could think of was the unconscious man below him. Peter had actually hurt someone else. Two people. Hurt them enough to knock them unconscious. He was afraid of himself now, and slowly got up.

"Peter," Mike said, snapping him back into reality. "Can you untie me before Freddie comes back please?" Peter rushed over to untie Mike, which he did just in time. The door swung open and Freddie barreled in. Mike and Peter both rolled to the side as once again, they were being shot at. They dove behind the stairwell to avoid the bullet. "Distract him." Mike whispered to Peter.

"What?" Peter asked.

"Distract him!" Peter didn't have time to question Mike further, as he heard the gun go off again. The bullet hit the staircase. Peter dove from behind the staircase, hoping to draw the fire from the gun wielding maniac. It worked. Freddie followed Peter with his gun and fired again. Peter once again felt a bullet whiz by his head. He was getting tired of being shot at. He ran to the opposite end of the house and dove behind the TV as he saw Freddie take aim again. He heard the sound of a gunshot, but didn't feel or hear the bullet. He peaked from behind the TV and saw Freddie on the ground now, blood coming from his knee, screaming in pain. Peter stood up, thoroughly confused. Then he saw Mike standing in the kitchen with a gun in his hand. He looked white as a sheet, obviously also a little freaked out that he had just shot a person. His hand was quaking a little bit and Peter walked over to him.

"Put the gun down, Mike," Peter said calmly. Mike dropped it like it was something rotten in his hand.

"Guys," Micky croaked a little. "Can you maybe tie them up and call the cops or something before they wake up?" Peter had forgotten all about the two unconscious men on the floor, and jumped into action at Micky's words. He made sure to do a better job at tying up their attackers than they had of him. Then he moved to untie Micky. Mike was already on the phone with the police.

"Cops and medics are on their way," Mike said as he came over with a dishcloth to wipe the blood from Micky's face. The ropes must have been the only thing holding Micky in the chair, because as soon as Peter untied him, Micky fell forward out of the chair. Mike caught him and the two lowered Micky to the ground.

"I'm so sorry, guys," Micky moaned.

"Don't apologize," Mike said. "It's not your fault. I'm just glad they came when Davy and Rose were out."

"They should have been back by now though," Peter said frowning a little. "I'm worried."

"You know how Davy is when he gets around horses," Mike said. "They probably lost track of time. I'm kinda glad they did, though. Who knows what would have happened if they had been here."

"They'd have killed us instead of torturing us," Micky croaked.

"Probably," Peter mumbled. The sound of approaching sirens was music to Peter's ears. Seconds later, the cops entered the house. Mike waved over to the still unconscious men who were tied up next to Freddie, still grabbing his leg.

"Those are the men who attacked us," Mike said.

"Is there anyone else in the house?" one of the officers asked while two more moved throughout the house looking for other people.

"No, just us and them."

"Did you shoot him?"

"I didn't want to. I had to. He was shooting at us. He was trying to kill us."

"Alright, calm down, son," the officer said. The other cops came back into the living room and holstered their guns, reporting that the house was clear of any other people. Two ambulances pulled up outside the house, and several paramedics rushed in. One knelt by the wounded Freddie, one knelt by Tony and his goon who were now starting to wake up. The cops untied the men and put handcuffs on them instead. Another two medics knelt by Micky, Peter and Mike.

"He was beat up pretty bad," Peter said.

"We'll get him to the hospital," the medic said to him. "Don't worry. The two of you should go too."

"We aren't hurt," Mike stated.

"Your head is bleeding, Mike," Peter said, pointing to the trail of blood on his face.

"I am?" Mike started to touch his head, but then reached out to grab Peter's forearm. "So are you." Peter looked at his wrists. Mike was right; his wrists were raw and bleeding a little. He realized he must have done this while struggling against the ropes. He didn't even feel any pain from it, probably because he was more concerned about his friends and his adrenaline was rushing.

"Those need to be looked at by a doctor, young man," the medic repeated. "They don't look terribly bad, but they could easily get infected."

"I'm more worried about Micky," Peter admitted.

"You friend will be taken care of, but that doesn't mean that you can't be seen, too. Both of you."

"What happened!?" cried Davy's voice as he and Rose ran into the house. The police stopped them before they could get all the way into the house though.

"It's ok, they're our friends," Peter said. The police let them the rest of the way in. Rose looked from Tony to Micky still lying on the ground, a bloody and bruised mess and her face when completely slack.

"Micky!" she cried and rushed to kneel by him. Davy ran over to them as well.

"Tony was looking for you," Mike answered.

"We didn't tell him anything," Peter added. The medics were carrying in two stretchers, one for Micky and the other for Freddie. Peter watched them load Freddie onto his stretcher and the police led the other two out to their squad cars. Once the medics had loaded Micky onto a stretcher, they turned to Mike and Peter again.

"You two should come in the ambulance with us," the one who had spoken to them before said while his partner pushed Micky towards the empty ambulance. Peter opened his mouth to argue, but Davy stopped him.

"They will," he told the medic before turning to Mike and Peter. "You guys get in that ambulance. Rose and I will follow you in the car." Davy grabbed Rose's hand and pulled her with him out into the car. She was protesting that she wanted to stay with Micky, but Davy convinced her to go with him. "You'll be with Micky soon enough. This is the only way to make sure Mike and Peter go to the hospital." Peter shook his head and reluctantly followed the stretcher carrying his friend into the ambulance. Mike stepped in just after him followed by the medic.

The medic began working before Peter even felt the ambulance move. He took gauze pads down and began to clean the blood off Micky's face. Peter noticed for the first time that Micky's eyes were closed. Worry ripped through him. Peter watched as the medic worked to help Micky. Once the medic had cleaned Micky up as best he could and had put an IV in him with some sort of medication, he turned to Mike.

"He's still passed out," Mike protested.

"There's nothing more I can do for him," the medic reasoned. "I gave him something to reduce the swelling and the pain. The doctors will take over when we get to the hospital." Mike reluctantly allowed the medic to clean his face up and inspect the wound on his head. "Doesn't look too bad. Doubt it'll even need stitches." Before he could turn to assist Peter, they were at the hospital. Peter climbed out with Mike first and the other medic who had driven came around to the back door to help his partner unload Micky. Two nurses and a doctor were already waiting for them. One nurse went with the doctor taking Micky into a back room, but when Mike and Peter tried to follow, the nurse stopped them.

"He'll be fine," she said directing them to a side room. "You'll be able to see him in a while. In the meantime, we need to take care of your injuries." Another doctor followed her into the room, and Peter recognized him as Dr. Hartman who had taken care of Micky earlier.

"I had hoped not to see you boys again," Dr. Hartman said.

"Rose's ex found us," Mike said. "He tried to make us tell him where she was and we refused. He got angry."

"I can see that," Dr. Hartman said. Peter noticed that a new trail of blood was dripping down Mike's head. "Sit down and let me have a look." Mike reluctantly sat on the bed Dr. Hartman had indicated. Dr. Hartman had to stand on a stool to get a good look at the top of Mike's head. "What happened here?"

"I don't really remember," Mike muttered.

"He got hit with a gun," Peter supplied. "Then passed out."

"He lost consciousness?" Dr. Hartman asked. "Are you nauseated at all, Mr. Nesmith?"

"Not really," Mike answered.

"Do you have a headache?"

"Yeah. It's not that bad though."

"Squeeze my fingers." Dr. Hartman held out two fingers on each hand, which Mike squeezed. "Ok, now try and push down on my hands." Mike complied. "Push up." Mike complied again. "Doesn't appear to be any muscle weakness. How long was he out, Mr. Tork?" Dr. Hartman now shined a light in each of Mike's eyes, testing his pupil response.

"Not long," Peter answered. "Maybe a couple minutes."

"I don't think there's anything more than a concussion here, but let's get some imaging done just in case." He now turned to the nurse standing there. "Tanya, can you take him down to imaging while I treat Mr. Tork?" Tanya nodded and motioned for Mike to follow her. Peter smiled at Mike as he looked back at him. "Ok, Mr. Tork, sit down and tell me what happened here."

"My hands were tied together," Peter explained as he sat down where Mike had just been. "I twisted my hands in the rope trying to free myself. Guess the guy didn't tie me well enough, and I was able to stretch the rope enough to slip out."

"Does it hurt?" he asked as he inspected Peter's wrists.

"Not really," Peter admitted. He knew he had a high tolerance for pain, but he also knew part of it was the adrenaline rush. "I have been more focused on other things. First Micky, then not getting shot at, now Mike and Micky."

"Your friends are going to be fine. It appears Mike just has a slight concussion, and Micky's injuries don't appear that serious. I'm going to clean these. Come over to the sink." Peter followed the doctor to the sink in the room. Dr. Hartman grabbed a brown bottle off the counter and unscrewed the cap. Peter assumed it was hydrogen peroxide and that the doctor was going to pour it over Peter's wrists, so he held his hands over the sink. The doctor took some gauze pads first and tried to soak up the blood and other liquids Peter didn't want to think about from his wrists. Peter was now starting to feel a little pain as the doctor applied pressure. When the doctor finally did pour some of the peroxide on Peter's wrists, pain shot through his whole arm. He inhaled deeply through his teeth and clenched both fists together, trying really hard not to rip his hands away from the stream of peroxide.

The doctor finally finished and motioned for Peter to sit back down. The doctor told Peter to sit still and that he'd be back momentarily before exiting the room. He came back moments later with two gauze rolls, scissors, tape, and a tube of some sort of cream. He told Peter that the cream was an antibiotic as he applied it around both of Peter's wrists. Then he very carefully wrapped the gauze rolls around Peter's wrists. When he had finished, Davy and Rose were waiting outside the room. The doctor told them it was ok for them to enter and they both came in, their expressions full of worry. Davy's eyes landed on Peter's wrists, now both completely bandaged.

"I'm fine," he said, though he was still feeling the pain from the peroxide. "Just a scratch."

"Liar," Rose said.

"Where are Mike and Micky?" Davy asked.

"Mike went to get some tests done on his head," Peter answered. "I don't know what they did with Micky."

"The other doctors are taking care of him," Dr. Hartman explained. "They are going to need to get some images of his face and head. X-rays, MRI's stuff like that. Make sure he has no broken or fractured bones or anything, but I don't foresee any major problems that won't be able to heal."

"When can we see him?" Rose asked.

"I don't really know that, yet," Dr. Hartman answered. "I'm not his doctor, but I can check and keep you informed." The doctor got up and left the room and Mike returned shortly after that, followed by what Peter assumed were two detectives.

"Sorry to bother you, gentleman," one of them said. "This is Detective Burk and I'm Detective Smith. We need you boys to tell us what happened." Peter and Mike went into detail about what had happened that night. The detectives wrote a lot of things down on their notepads and Rose and Davy both looked very distraught by the end of their story.

"Where were the two of you?" Detective Burk asked.

"I took her to a friend's horse ranch," Davy answered. His voice sounded very strained to Peter. "We lost track of the time."

"It's good she wasn't there, though," Mike said. Rose and Davy both had traces of guilt on their faces. "Micky was right; if she were there, he probably would have killed us."

"That's right," Peter said, trying to ease their guilt.

"It looks like your story matches with the evidence," Detective Smith said. "Two of the men who attacked you are wanted the murder of another young man. You are all very lucky to get out of this situation alive." Both detectives stood up now.

"We'll call you if we have any more questions," Detective Burk added before they both left the room.

"Murder?" Davy whispered.

"They _were_ shooting at us," Mike said. "Good thing he can't aim that well."

"Good thing Peter's fast, too," Davy added.

"And good thing Peter stayed calm and figured out how to get himself free," Rose said, putting her hand on his arm. "You saved the day, Peter. You're a hero."

"Well, I wouldn't really go that far," Peter mumbled and felt himself blush. Really, he'd only done what anyone else would have to save his friends. He felt really bad for hurting those men, but he knew it was something that had to be done. If two of them really were killers, then Micky really was right. If Rose had been home, or if Peter hadn't incapacitated them, he was sure he and all his friends would be dead by now. But he still wouldn't call himself a "hero".


	12. Finality

Author's Note: This is the end. Very short chapter, I know. But it's mostly to just wrap things up.

Chapter 12: Finality

Micky heard his friends' voices around him. His mind was in too much of a haze to really make anything out. He tried to figure out what was going on. He remembered waking up with a gun pointed at him. He remembered seeing Tony behind the gun. He remembered Tony yanking him out of bed and throwing him into the wall. He remembered Tony throwing him out of his room. He remembered being kicked and pushed over the railing onto the first floor. He remembered being hit, battered, and bruised. He also remembered Mike being struck on the head and Peter valiantly dodging bullets to save Micky. He knew he should be in a lot of pain, but he wasn't. He tried opening his eyes, but was only able to open one.

"Ssh!" He heard Mike say. "He's awake." The room fell silent at these words. Micky's vision was blurred, and the voices of his friends sounded so far away. But he could vaguely make the outlines of his friends out.

"Hey, Micky," Peter said. "How are you feeling?"

"Actually, I'm feeling fine," Micky said; his vision was still blurred, but the voices were now as they should be. "Although I can't see all that well."

"Well your eye is still swollen shut," Davy supplied.

"And you're on a _lot_ of really good pain killers," Mike added. "Which is why you feel fine."

"Even though you look terrible," Peter said.

"Peter!" Mike and Davy admonished.

"What?" He asked innocently. "It's the truth."

"Peter," Rose finally spoke up. "He doesn't need to hear that kind of stuff right now." Micky felt a pair of soft hands squeeze his arm.

"It's ok, Rose," Micky said. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?" Davy asked. Micky could hear a slight panic in his voice.

"No, I remember what happened. But last thing I saw before I passed out was Mike's head and Peter's wrists bleeding and Tony and his friends crumpled in a heap."

"The cops arrested them," Mike said. "They brought them here to be treated for their injuries. Peter nailed 'em good and they were only released into police custody a couple hours ago after being cleared medically. Except Freddie. I kinda destroyed his knee. He won't be walking around on it for a long time."

"That's good," Micky said with a smile. "But what about you guys."

"We're fine, Micky," Peter said. Micky may not have been able to see him that well, but he could hear the smile in his voice. "I got a few rope burns from wiggling out and Mike has a concussion. The doc said he was lucky that he didn't need any stitches."

"Too bad," Davy laughed. "They would have had to shave your head to do that."

"And you know I would have refused," Mike laughed. "No one is touching my hair." Micky tried to laugh, but felt tightness in his chest.

"Ow," he muttered.

"Don't try and laugh, Micky," Rose said, placing her hand on his forehead comfortingly. "You just came out of surgery and if you laugh, you'll tear the stitches."

"Surgery?" Micky asked.

"They said you had a very small tear on your spleen," Mike said. "They went in and fixed it."

"So I guess I'm not going home for a while?"

"No," Peter answered. "The doctor said you have some pretty severe bruises mostly, and a sprained wrist from the fall. But other than that and the spleen, you're fine."

"And you guys are sure you're ok?" Micky asked.

"We're fine," Peter assured him. "No big problems. Doctor released us hours ago. We just have to keep an eye on our injuries to make sure they don't get infected." Micky felt a little more relaxed. He still couldn't believe Peter's actions. He hadn't expected Peter to be as nimble as he was. Or as adept at overcoming adversaries. They'd always taken the cowards' way out in the past. And Peter was the least likely out of the group to do anything even remotely violent.

"Don't worry about us, though, mate," Davy said. "Just make sure you take care of yourself. You're gonna be here a few days. Doctor said maybe even a week. Just try and relax."

"A week?!" Micky exclaimed, now trying to get up. "I can't stay here for a week!"

"George Michael Dolenz!" Rose exclaimed, freezing him in his attempts to get out of the bed. He really hated being called by his full name. It's not that he hated it; he was named for his father who was a wonderful man, but he always knew he was in trouble when someone used his full name. "If you don't lie back down in that bed right now, I will use force against you."

"Force?" Mike asked, clearly a little shocked at Rose's outburst.

"Yes," she replied simply. He couldn't see her beyond a fuzzy figure, but he could feel her eyes staring at him. "I can ask those nurses to give him a little help sleeping. They can put it in his IV and he'll be out like a light for hours."

"Okay, okay, I surrender," Micky said, lying back down reluctantly.

"Good," came a voice from the doorway, and Micky assumed this was his nurse because of what she said next. "Because I would have given you a little sleeping medication. You need to be resting, Mr. Dolenz. Not moving around. Your spleen is trying to heal itself. If you move too much, you'll burst it open again which can cause you to bleed to death. Best case scenario, you lose your spleen entirely."

"I promise, I'll behave," Micky answered.

"You? Behave?" Rose said skeptically.

"Never!" Mike, Davy and Peter said in unison. Micky couldn't help it; he laughed again and his stomach erupted in pain. He inhaled sharply and moved his hand over his stomach.

"Don't do that," the nurse told him. "And you boys don't need to be making him laugh."

"That's going to be very difficult, ma'am," Micky said.

"Call me Lori," she replied.

"Ok, Lori," Micky answered. "Can you tell me how long until I get my vision back?"

"What do you mean?"

"He can't see well cause his eye is swollen shut," Peter said.

"He should still be able to see out of the other eye fine. The only thing that should be affected should be his depth perception. Is that what you mean?"

"No," Micky was now slightly reluctant to answer, thinking there may have been something else wrong with him. "Everything is blurry."

"Blurry?"

"Yeah, I can make out shapes, but that's it."

"Hmm…how many fingers am I holding up?" She moved her hand in front of his face. He couldn't see how many fingers she was holding up exactly.

"I…um…I don't know. I see something in front of me, but can't make out what it is." All three of Micky's friends got immediately nervous and spoke all at once.

"What?!" Mike exclaimed.

"What does that mean?" Davy asked.

"Is he going to be ok?" Peter added.

"Calm down," Nurse Lori said. "It's probably nothing to worry about. Stressing him out won't do any good. I'll get the doctor." She left and came back with the doctor moments later.

"Hello, Mr. Dolenz," the doctor said. "I'm Dr. Fletcher. Lori says you are having issues with your vision?"

"Everything is kinda blurry," Micky replied.

"Well, it's more than likely a result of a little brain swelling on the occipital nerve. Your brain is a little swollen, but it should go down and your vision should return to normal as the swelling goes down. But we'll keep an eye on it just in case."

Over the next week, Micky's vision did slowly improve. The pain in his stomach also subsided to the point where he could laugh with his friends. Rose, Mike, Davy and Peter had pretty much stayed with him the whole time, going home occasionally to take showers or change clothes. They slept in cots the doctor had brought in for them to use, even though it was very cramped because the room Micky was in wasn't that large. Finally, Dr. Fletcher came back in to Micky's room to tell him he was ready to be discharged.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Dolenz?" Dr. Fletcher asked.

"Better," Micky replied. "And my vision is almost completely back. Just a little bit of haze now."

"Good. When you go home, I want to make sure you still stay pretty sedentary. You can get up and move around to do some basic things on your crutches still, but sit as often as you can. As the other doctor told you, you need to ice your ankle very often. I'm going to give you some pain medications to take as well; something a little stronger than what you had before. Have you ever taken Oxycodone?"

"No," Micky replied. This was essentially true. He'd taken it once, but not in the manner the doctor was asking about.

"Are you sure?" Mike asked. Micky looked at him, wondering why he would ask this. Micky briefly thought if he knew something he wasn't letting on.

"Positive," Micky replied. Mike looked very confused about something. He must know something, but Micky wasn't sure what.

"Ok," Dr. Fletcher said. "It's a very powerful narcotic. You need to be careful with it. It can cause nausea and dizziness. I want you to take this every 8 hours. If you take too much, it can cause a lot of problems; make sure you take it as directed. I'm going to check on your last round of tests, but barring any new problems arising, I don't see any reason not to send you home." The doctor left the room, and as soon as the door closed behind her, Mike moved to lock it.

"What did you do that for?" Peter asked.

"I know you don't feel good, Micky," Mike started still looking confused, "but I need to figure something out. When we took you in four years ago, we assumed you were drunk because of all the empty bottles, but I told Peter that it didn't quite make sense." Micky's stomach knotted. He knew where this was going and didn't want to deal with this.

"What do you mean, Mike?" Davy asked.

"Peter and I talked about it when you were asleep that night, Davy. Do you remember seeing Micky drink anything but soda all night?"

"Well, no, but I wasn't paying all that much attention," Davy answered.

"Peter?"

"No," Peter replied.

"Neither did I," Mike said, now looking squarely at Micky. "I told Peter that it didn't make sense for you to get drunk enough to pass out and throw up in the half an hour you were alone. If you had anything to drink before the party, we would have seen signs of it while you were working. I let it go back then because I didn't know you, but now I'm not going to. A lot of things don't really add up here. At least not to you having been drunk that night. The comment you made about us helping you more than we knew. And the fact that I found a bottle of Oxycodone when I washed your pants that night that didn't have your name on it even though you just told that doctor you've never taken it. Tell me, Micky, what _does_ that all add up to?" They were all staring at him now. He was very uncomfortable, but he knew he couldn't run away from this anymore. Mike knew. Mike had pieced everything together. Mike was looking at him with a sense of paternal concern, Peter with brotherly sadness, Davy with utter confusion, and Rose with a small sense of despair mixed with guilt and pity. Why hadn't Micky destroyed that bottle? He had completely forgotten about it.

"Alright, you win," Micky relented. "I didn't want you to know the truth because I was ashamed of it. I hated my life. You saw what I was going through and I was so depressed about Rose. I bought that bottle off a guy on the street. I wasn't sure when I first bought them if I was really going to do it, but after the night I had, I decided to do it. I wanted to die. Peter came down about 15 minutes after I took a handful of them. I must have thrown them up throughout the night. That's what that comment really meant. Peter saved my life initially by making me throw up throughout the night with his incense and all three of you made me remember that life was worth living." He couldn't look at any of them as he spoke; he bent his head down and closed his eyes as he spoke. He didn't want to see their angry faces.

He was startled when he felt several arms wrap around him. He opened his eyes and noticed Peter and Davy were both hugging him from either side. Rose squeezed his hand in hers. Mike stood there, looking as if he were fighting back tears, which was odd because Mike never cried. Micky didn't know what to say. They weren't angry?

"Micky, why didn't you tell us this sooner?" Peter asked when he and Davy finally let go of him.

"I…I was ashamed," Micky repeated. "I didn't want you guys to know how stupid I'd been."

"Well, what you did certainly was stupid," Mike said. "But that doesn't mean _you're_ stupid. We've all done stupid things. That doesn't make any of us stupid."

"Mike's right," Davy agreed. "None of us thinks you're stupid. We're just glad that you are better now. That you don't think that way anymore."

"Yeah," Peter added. "And I'm glad I was able to make you throw up!" Micky chuckled. Peter was trying to lighten the mood and make Micky feel better by acting clueless again.

"Micky," Rose spoke up, her voiced very strained like she was fighting back tears, "I'm so sorry I drove you to do that."

"You didn't," Micky assured her. "It was a mix of a lot of things. My life was hell. And everything that happened between us was Tony's fault."

"It was mine, too. I never should have listened to Tony."

"It's in the past now," Mike said, walking over and placing a reassuring hand on Rose's shoulder. "All of that is. What Micky did; what you did. It's all in the past. Mistakes that both of you learned from. I know I've made my fair share of mistakes in the past, and I know Davy and Peter have too. It happens. It's what makes us human. But I've said it before; the only thing that makes us fools is the inability to learn from our mistakes." Rose leaned over and kissed Micky. Micky knew this wasn't a "thank you" kiss. This was much more than that. When she pulled away she whispered "I love you". Words he hadn't heard her say to him in years. He didn't care anymore if he dove into the deep end or not; he whispered "I love you, too" back to her, and she squeezed his hand again.

Micky smiled. He felt a weight he didn't know he had lifted off his shoulders. He felt at peace. He hid no more secrets from his friends. And now he knew that they truly loved him. He knew that they would be able to get through anything together. They were more than friends. They were family. And they always would be.


End file.
